Renaisterre
by Lieuten Keen
Summary: Sequel to The New Doctor: A new world is discovered but it's not all it's cracked up to be. One world stands ready to be remade while another world stands ready to break apart. Chapter 24 & 25! Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Renaisterre**

Sequel to The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter One

* * *

**Disclaimer:** What you recognize belongs to Paramount. I don't own them; I just play with them now and again. Andie belongs to me. (Nobody else would want her.)

Set in Season 4 just after Kir'Shara. There's six months between the Vulcan Civil War and the Conference at Babel One. I'm making the most of that time.

_The New Doctor_ takes place in the first two months after Kir'Shara. _Renaisterre_ occurs directly after those events. I'm attempting to summarize the events of the first story in case you don't want to read it; you should be able to keep up. But it's always a good idea to read the source material for clarity.

**A/N**: Drinking, smoking, cursing, kissing and kicking butt are a few of my favorite things. Please read responsibly!

* * *

**Chapter One**

_Enterprise: E Deck, gymnasium_

_Early August, late evening_

"You're doing it wrong."

Malcolm Reed restrained the urge to knock his critic on her ass for many reasons, but the foremost was because from his current stance it would be difficult to shift his weight and reach her before she became aware of his intentions. He was stuck in a wide legged stance with both arms outspread; one behind him and slightly raised, and the other in front of him, holding a rather weighty weapon.

The temporary acting Chief Medical Officer, Andrea Brainerd, who preferred the casual title of Dr. Andie, was giving Reed lessons in sword play. Their evening exercises had started as a means of getting to know one another, but now simply served to introduce Malcolm to her odd way of waving a sword around, much like the pirates she once lived and worked with before her association with Starfleet had begun. It required a great deal of athleticism, this sword-style, and although she was slender and energetic and made it look as difficult as a bird swooping through the air, Reed remained convinced that he looked as ridiculous as he felt, much like an elephant in a pink ballet tutu.

The female circled around him, chewing on her lip as he held the posture for her perusal. "May I make an adjustment?" she inquired, waiting for his grunt of agreement before stepping closer to him. Her body molded against his from behind. He could feel her breath against the back of his neck as she tilted her head and stretched out her own arm to mimic his posture, using his arm as thought she was taking aim through a sight on a rifle.

Reed could feel the heat of her body against his through his tee shirt and wondered why the odor from his perspiration didn't send her running for cover. He could feel her hands on his hips, shifting them slightly and he made the adjustment she required, trying to ignore the soft whispers in his ear as she muttered verbal instructions. Her arm molded itself to his and lifted it just slightly higher in the back, making him grit his teeth at the brief flare of a muscle unaccustomed to such activity. Then she reached out in the other direction and gripped his wrist to turn his forearm just a hair toward his center. The frustrating muscle flare disappeared, much to his relief, although it did not seem that she had done much to shift his body.

Testing his new posture, she gripped his wrist and used it to direct the swing of his sword arm across his body, which occurred in a smoother motion than he'd been attempting on his own. In spite of her volatile temper, she was a pretty good instructor. He had half a mind to set her to refreshing some of the MACO's on his team in hand to hand tactics. It amused him to anticipate which marine would be caught off guard by her skills. One thought sapped the humor from his reflection; the doctor was distracting enough without pressing up against the rest of the men on board.

"Tell me, Doctor," he asked quietly, still feeling her chest resting against his back through the thin tee shirt even though she seemed to have completed her perusal of his form. Goosebumps had risen on his arm and he made a note to turn up the thermostat in what he presumed to be the chilly room. "I thought you told me this was a hands-off sport. How is it that you can put your hands all over me?"

"I believe I said it was _primarily_ a hands-off sport." she corrected playfully, speaking directly into his ear in a low voice sending a fresh batch of goose bumps into his flesh. Suddenly she paused and stepped away. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"The instructors at Starfleet training were never so hands on," he remarked. "They thought it might be distracting." Years of practice kept his facial expression smooth even as he felt the chill of her absence.

"I'll keep my distance then," she stated stiffly, allowing her smile to fade away behind a polite expression.

A sound reached both their ears and broke the unexpectedly awkward moment. At this time of night, it was surprising to find anyone entering the small gym on E Deck and they were both startled as somebody entered the room. Reed turned his head to witness the intruder, concerned to be discovered in such close proximity to the woman who had been spending a lot of free time with Commander Tucker recently, and was mortified to see Trip himself entering the room. Feeling off-balance and slightly guilty, he jerked his sword-arm around in a failed attempt to salute the superior officer, something he hadn't done in quite a while although it seemed quite appropriate now, but the gesture was stopped short as his elbow nailed Andie, who was still standing very close, right in the face with a sickening crunch. She squeaked sharply just before she hit the floor.

Dazed, Andie put a hand up to her face and caught the blood trickling from her nose. Catching sight of the newcomer, her eyes darted to Reed's pale complexion just before she shrieked loudly. "OOWWWW!" Scrambling across the floor she begged the newcomer. "Tucker, get him away from me! He's gone mad! He attacked me! I'll never be pretty again!"

Trip rushed to the doctor's side. "What the hell's going on?" he demanded, placing his body between the two combatants as if to defend the woman.

"We were just exercising," Malcolm answered nervously, trying to get a look at the damage that he might have done to cause such an outburst in a woman usually so imperturbable. It was impossible; she was hidden by the engineer.

"He attacked me!" Andie warbled loudly. "Keep him away! He plans to finish the job! I'll be hideous!"

The sudden bout of melodrama was suspicious and Malcolm tilted his head around Tucker's form to glare at her, figuring she was just having him on for a laugh.

"Let's get her to the infirmary," Trip suggested, helping the woman to her feet. He couldn't figure out what was going on, but she couldn't be hurt that badly if she could still screech like a wet cat.

Andie flung a triumphant grin at Malcolm over Trip's shoulder, confirming Reed's suspicion that very few things would make this woman afraid and _he_ certainly wasn't one of them. Malcolm rolled his eyes in disgust.

"This is ridiculous! She's fine," Reed insisted. "I'll prove it." He reached out a hand.

Andie squealed loudly, rolled her eyes up into her head and collapsed gracefully to the floor, apparently in a faint.

"What the hell, Reed?" Trip shouted, planting his body between the Brit and the doctor defensively.

"She's faking," Malcolm asserted insistently.

"She's terrified of you!" Tucker pointed out. He glanced back at her fallen form just in time to catch sight of one eye snapping shut a moment too late. She had been looking at him just a second before. "Andie?" he called her name, kneeling down. His fingers felt for a pulse on her wrist; it beat with strong even rhythms. "I think she's out cold." Still he studied her form with greater interest.

"She is not!" Malcolm denied vehemently. His temper began to climb.

"It's all right. I know how to treat this kind of injury," Trip went on calmly, offering Malcolm a significant look. "Lizzie used to faint like this all the time. I recommend we try a tried and true home remedy of vigorous rib-tickling." He flexed his fingers in anticipation as he grinned gleefully.

Andie's eyes snapped open. "Oh, hell no!" she refused as she tossed her legs over her head and rolled to her feet. "Look! I'm cured!" She raised her hands in triumph and smiled angelically in spite of the trickle of red still flowing from her nostril.

"That's not funny!" Malcolm snapped and Trip tried not to giggle.

"It's a little funny," she assured him with a cheeky smile, wiping inadequately at her face with her hand. "It's just as funny as the time I shot you in the ass on accident!"

"Wasn't an accident," Reed muttered under his breath.

Andie continued swiping ineffectually at the blood still drizzling from her nose. "I need to get to Sickbay. Anybody want to volunteer to help me?" She pinched the bridge of her nose and tilted her head backward.

"I'll go with you," Tucker volunteered. "I wouldn't want you to suddenly 'faint' in the corridor and get Malcolm in trouble." He offered her his clean gym towel for the nose bleed and led her to the door.

"Reed, would you mind bringing my gear? I don't want to leave it here unattended. The gym's crowded tonight." Andie's voice was muffled by the towel as she looked over her shoulder at the dark-haired man.

"I'll be right behind you," he promised, watching them go. When Tucker had entered the room, he hadn't said a word about how close Reed had been standing next to Andie. Perhaps he was waiting for a more private moment to have a word with the armory officer. Reed felt a little guilty about how much fun he had been having with that dreadful woman until his friend's entrance. With a deep sigh, he picked up the two short swords, whose blades were wrapped in a protective material to keep from cutting anyone with their sharp edges and placed them in their long, narrow case. He grabbed the pair of gym bags with their water bottles and other odds and ends and offered a quick look around to make certain the room was empty. With a grudging heart, he followed after the other couple.

The long walk to Sickbay gave him plenty of time to notice the glob of rubberized glue adhering to Andie's towel. He picked at it a little as he walked. He didn't recognize the substance exactly, but he did remembering seeing tiny blobs of it decorating the woman's scrubs late in recent evenings when she worked in Sickbay. Perhaps it was some medicinal substance; although if it was, he couldn't think what it might be.

Steeling himself to enter the medical ward, he was prepared to find the Commander comforting the Doctor in a personal sort of way, but there was no indication of anything private occurring in the room. The slender woman lay back on a bio-bed with a small tray of instruments on her abdomen and was instructing Trip on how to hold a mirror properly.

"I can't believe you want to treat your own injury!" Trip sighed. "Let me call Ensign Black to do it for you before you cut your nose off!" Not for the first time did he wish that Phlox's illness had not sent the primary surgeon back to Denobula Prime for a while to recuperate. They could really use another doctor on hand.

"Ian Black doesn't need another reason to grumble at me," she insisted. "And this is a piece of cake. Just hold that mirror still." Andie tilted her head backwards and slid a small instrument into her nostril and Trip tried not to gag as the machine whirled to life. In a few seconds the thin membrane was sealed and the bleeding had stopped.

"There!" Andie cried triumphantly. "All done!" She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, wisely pausing and inhaling slowly at the brief vertigo until it passed. "Good as new," she smirked at Trip as she wiggled her nose around to make certain it wouldn't suddenly start bleeding again. Catching sight of Malcolm she smiled widely. "Tell him I'm fine, Reed," she insisted. "Tell him it would take something much bigger than your elbow to fell me for good."

Malcolm assumed a pleasant expression. "The doctor has assured me on several occasions that it would take something much larger than me to drop her on her ass, and also takes pride in loudly proclaiming that she would have no trouble knocking me on mine." His eyebrow spoke volumes to Tucker as it hit his hairline though, and Tucker finally gave in to relief and smiled.

"I bet she'd try like hell at any rate," the engineer chuckled with relief.

"_Captain Archer to the senior staff_," spoke a voice over the Comm.

The men looked at each other before Tucker hit the button on the wall to respond. "Tucker, here! Malcolm's with me. We're both in Sickbay, Cap'n," he acknowledged. "We were talking to the Doc."

"_If you're not injured would you both report to the Bridge?_ _There's something up here you should see."_ Although they could not see his expression from Sickbay, they could hear the smile in his voice. _"We're back in business, Trip!"_

"Malcolm and I will be right there, Cap'n," Trip promised. He looked back at Andie with an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry, Doc. We gotta go." The engineer couldn't help but notice the furtive glances she sent toward the armory officer and thought he ought to beat a hasty retreat and give the two of them a moment alone.

"No worries," Andie waved away his apologies. "I'll be fine." She applied a hypo to her own neck as he exited the room.

Left alone with the woman, Malcolm stepped forward to hand over her gym equipment. "I'm very sorry," he started to apologize as she accepted the bag and the case.

"Not yet, but you will be," she promised with a grin. "Tomorrow we will duel to avenge my honor!" She practiced a sweeping bow, as though she was a Musketeer seeking satisfaction.

"Perhaps that would be a bad idea," he hesitated. Trip hadn't even looked at him before he left; clearly he was very angry at the personal attention of the doctor and the security officer. But that didn't really sound like the southern man at all, Malcolm acknowledged.

Andie stopped laughing. "Why? What's wrong? Is it…?" She could see he wasn't amused. "It was just a joke." Her voice dwindled away.

"These things might get out of hand if we don't take the proper precautions," he stated.

She had a feeling she knew exactly why he was avoiding her. He still didn't trust her. "There's nothing to get out of hand…" Her protests broke off when the double doors slid open again to admit another engineer. "Hey, Mike," she greeted him tiredly.

"Hey, Doc," Crewman Michael Rostov greeted the physician. "Are you busy?"

"I was just leaving," Malcolm told them both. "I'm sorry about your nose, Doctor," he apologized again.

"Don't worry about it, Reed. I've already forgotten it," Andie assured him coolly. He would never forget or forgive what she was at heart. And he didn't even know the half of it. She watched him guardedly until his back departed the double doors then turned to Crewman Rostov. "What can I do for you?"

"Remember that thing you treated me for? Is it gone?" Rostov looked worried as he looked around the room carefully, searching for listeners.

"Are you exhibiting symptoms?" Andie inquired, picking up a medical tri-corder and scanning him quickly.

"No, it's just that…." Rostov searched for the right words. "I was thinking about becoming involved with somebody and I wanted to make sure it was all right to …be involved with them, without spreading….anything."

Rostov had been at a table in a seedy bar when he and several other young crewmen were infected with a disease passed on through the palm of an angry prostitute. She had intended to make them suffer, but it was the excessive antibodies created by their own immune systems in response to her disease that kept those men from falling victim to the ship-wide epidemic that had knocked down almost everyone else and sent Phlox back to Denobula to recuperate.

"I think it's admirable that you are taking such precautions to verify your health before you start a physical relationship," Andie beamed. "But I'm also inclined to give you my safe sex speech again. Would you like to look at the pamphlets while I lecture?"

Rostov squirmed. "Not really," he denied. He worried briefly about her delight in his predicament. She was the medical officer, but he wondered if she would gossip with anyone else about his condition. He shrugged. If she was going to talk about it, she would have done it by now. He let her chatter on about safe sexual practices and the importance of communication as she puttered around the medical ward, readying the imaging chamber and indicating that Rostov should get comfortable there.

She paused briefly in the middle of her speech when she noted the gym equipment that Reed had brought with him. Getting along with Reed just wasn't as easy as it sounded. It didn't help that his skin emitted an odor much like cloves, even when he dripped with perspiration. It was distracting. She wondered if it would be weird to suggest that Reed switch to a different soap or deodorant or something. Realizing that Rostov lay on the sliding bio-bed waiting for her to send his form into the chamber, she forced a cheery smile on her face. She started the engineer's bio-scan before she picked up the swords and secured them in a locked cupboard until she could return them to her cabin.

It wouldn't do at all to become distracted by the chief tactical officer. He was far too nosy for her peace of mind.

* * *

_Enterprise: Bridge_

_Shortly thereafter_

Fifteen minutes later Malcolm appeared on the Bridge and relieved his counterpart on the Gamma shift when he took the tactical station. Everybody else was already there. Ensign Hoshi Sato sat at the Comm., listening attentively to the sounds coming through her earpiece, ignoring all the others who watched her intently. Ensign Travis Mayweather continued to guide the ship closer to the planetary system that occupied the view screen in front of them. Commander T'Pol was unruffled as she kept her eye on several scans being completed by the computer at the science station and Commander Tucker stood behind the big chair as Captain Archer leaned forward, hoping to get a glimpse of something with his bare eye before the computers could beat him to the game.

"It is _Minshara_ Class," T'Pol confirmed, causing Archer to exhale in relief and look at Trip with expectant glee. "It is roughly 7000 kilometers in diameter."

"That's twice the size of the moon!" Trip grinned widely, clapping the shoulder of the captain. Archer just nodded intently as he waited for more information.

"Captain?" Hoshi called out. "I'm not getting any response to our hails."

"It appears to be a pre-industrial society," T'Pol added, lifting her head from the viewer. "This species appears to be experiencing a medieval period in their development." She didn't need to look at Archer's face to know it had fallen low. Starfleet did not make contact with pre-warp species, let alone pre-industrial ones. The computer beeped and she turned her attention to a report just coming in. "There appears to be residual radiation lingering on the surface area," she announced.

"What kind of radiation?" Jon inquired, feeling his hopes of contact with a new species falling away. Trip squeezed his friend's shoulder for a brief moment.

"I believe the rate of decay on the planet has nearly depleted the original substance from the atmosphere. It is hard to estimate accurately. The asteroid belt that lies between the plant and our ship seems to be exhibiting a low level graviton field and the sensors are having trouble penetrating the interference." She lifted her head form her charts and diagrams. "I would recommend against a landing party, Captain."

"Agreed," he acknowledged regretfully. "But nothing says we can't get a good long look at the planet. Continue scanning. Try and find out what you can about the inhabitants."

"As you wish," T'Pol agreed.

Everyone on the Bridge let out the breath they had been holding. Their primary mission of exploration had been put off for their trip into the Expanse, and all were hoping to resume their usual duties and make some new friends in the galaxy. It did not appear that today was the day that would happen.

"Sorry to get you all out of bed for nothing," Archer sighed as he looked around. Hoshi and T'Pol had both been at their stations already. Travis just grinned and nodded agreeably; he never minded being routed from bed. As a pilot, he always had a job to do when he was called to the bridge.

"Malcolm and I weren't in bed anyway, Cap'n" Trip acknowledged.

"You were in Sickbay if I recall." Jon arched an eyebrow. "You aren't sick, are you?"

"No, sir," Malcolm interjected quickly.

"We were just...talking to Andie," Trip finished awkwardly. He thought he saw T'Pol lift her head from her scans when she heard that, but when he turned around, she was concentrating on the screen before her.

"Is she in trouble?" Archer questioned casually. Things seemed to happen when Andie Brainerd was around. _Chaotic things_, he amended in his head. _Loud things_, he mentally added.

"Not today," Trip announced. A bloody nose during exercise was hardly worth mentioning.

"Gee, that's two days in a row," Archer smirked. "I think that's a record, don't you?"

"Could be, sir. I'll have 'em mark it in the log." Trip grinned easily. "If you don't need me, I'm gonna head off to bed then."

"We'll call you if anything interesting shows up," Archer grumbled in response, scowling at a view screen that refused to show him a planet that needed a good long exploratory mission. "You're relieved as well, Malcolm," Archer stated, when he turned his head and noticed the tactical officer still seated at his station. "Go get some rest."

"I think I will. Good night, sir." Malcolm rose and Ensign Higgins took back the tactical station.

Actually Malcolm didn't like being dismissed from the Bridge, but with his recent medical recommendation for rest lingering on the captain's mind, he didn't want to press his luck and wind up on forced leave for several days. Hoshi gave up her chair to Ensign Shannen but Ensign Caffrey found Commander T'Pol reluctant to give up her station, so she continued her work in the back of the Bridge, compiling data scanned from the planet below. There were several thousand life-forms down there, but unfortunately, they couldn't make the acquaintance of even a single one of them. Ensign Tanner was sent back to bed, as Mayweather made him self comfortable at the helm.

For some, it was going to be a long night.

They just didn't know how long it was really going to be.

* * *

_Enterprise: Bridge_

_The Next Morning_

Ten hours later, Jonathan Archer stood in front of the captain's chair and stared at the strange sight in front of his eyes. The NX-01 had navigated around the thickest part of the asteroid belt in an attempt to take further scans of the planet they could not visit, and discovered something floating amid the debris. Drifting idly through those rocky remnants was a ship. The alien vessel was larger than _Enterprise_, the pride of Starfleet's progress. It was smooth and round and contained a large bubble-like dome in the center, created with transparent material strong enough to withstand the vacuum of space. Had there been any lights on inside, the dome would have lit up the darkness around them. But there were no lights; it wafted darkly on the asteroidal eddies, surprising its watchers by serendipitously avoiding collisions with the jagged rocks around it. Hoshi had returned for her morning shift but shook her head in response to all queries about communications with the vessel that tumbled helplessly through the clutter on the fringe of a planet.

"I'm reading a surge of power deep inside the vessel," Commander T'Pol informed the captain. "Main power may still be online."

"Can you confirm bio-signs?" Archer inquired. He hated to leave a ship to roll around like junk. It just didn't seem neighborly. He could remember one dire circumstance early in their first year when leaving behind a derelict vessel full of dead bodies had nearly been worse than offering aid. That wasn't the sort of lesson he could forget. If the crew was dead, they deserved a burial of some kind.

"I cannot," T'Pol told him. "There appears to be bio-matter on board, but I cannot confirm scans of the interior."

"Is that due to the graviton field?"

"It may be due to structural damage, sir," Malcolm interjected. He, too, had returned for his morning duties and was once again occupying his seat at the tactical station. "I'm not detecting any evidence of weapons' fire. The outer hull appears to be in good condition. Whatever damage was done, must have come from inside."

Mayweather looked up from his seat at the helm. "You can see the stream of atmosphere where another section of the hull just decompressed," he interrupted, pointing a finger at a wisp of air on screen.

Jon looked at Hoshi. He didn't need to verbalize his request; she was still shaking her head. There was nobody sign to indicate the aliens had received their hails, if there was anyone left alive to receive them.

He hated to send his crew over when they couldn't adequately estimate what they would find inside. There could be enemies, or plagues or just a lot of nothing. Hoshi had managed to make out a few markings on the side of the ship and was currently running them through a translation matrix and the database for comparison. Archer had never seen anything like this ship in his years in space. But there might be somebody else on board who could give him some more information.

"Send a copy of this data down to Sickbay," he ordered T'Pol. "If the Doctor thinks its okay, we'll take a shuttle pod over to have a look. Start putting a team together, Malcolm. Tell Trip he's coming too. We might need an engineer."

"There's nothing to indicate a medical cause, sir," Malcolm objected with curiosity. "We can't even confirm life-signs. What can the doctor offer that we can't see for ourselves?"

"Can't hurt to ask," Archer grimaced. He left the bridge on the turbo-lift, leaving behind a puzzled armory officer.

"And you think I know…what, exactly?" Andie eyed the captain dubiously. She cradled a gray cat in her arms. Josephine did not look pleased about being held either. Archer had no doubt that Jojo would like nothing better than to hide under a table until he left the room. He probably smelled like dog, he realized. He could not locate Jojo's companion, Napoleon. The orange cat was usually never far from his mistress who had rescued them both from an ice-covered planet overrun with carnivores, but Leon could not be found at the moment.

"You've been out in space longer and farther than anyone else I know," he reminded her. That little fact was not widely known among the crew, but a select few on board were aware of her dubious past. "If you recognize the ship or the markings, tell me now. If not, gear up. We're going aboard."

"If I recognize the ship, I can stay here?" she questioned archly, repeating his words.

"No," he refused, silently cursing his misplaced clause. He was a captain, not an English teacher! "Either way, you're going. We may need a doctor once we're on board."

"It's a dead ship, Jon," she noted.

"It shows some power signatures," he protested. "It couldn't have been lost long. There may still be survivors."

"Not with this many hull ruptures," she noted, pointing to the gasps of air in the vacuum of space that Mayweather had also noticed. "This dome…" she laid her fingers on the view screen in Sickbay. "Scans of this dome seem to indicate a large number of plants. Maybe I should grab a pot of Denobulan lilies from the greenhouse to communicate with the vegetables on that ship?"

Now she was just messing with him. Archer tried not to roll his eyes. "Grab an EV suit and a medical kit. We leave in an hour." He stalked out the double doors of Sickbay trying not to think of how big a pain in the ass that woman was! He was going to give Admiral Gardiner an earful for bringing her on board. At lease she was only here for four more months!

Andie watched the captain go. She had the good sense to wait until the doors closed before muttering "Pain in my ass," into the gray fur on top of Jojo's head. She finished jabbing the hypo into the cat's neck, full of mandatory vitamins for growing kitties, before releasing the feline to move freely about the wide room. The first thing timid Jojo did was to run and with one giant leap soar to the top of the cupboards and make herself comfortable on a pillow on a shelf near the ceiling, where she felt safe. She had a view of all the comings and goings of the room but was unreachable from down below. Leon would surely join here there. He would lick her ears and allow her to sit on the edge of the cushion. Together they would watch the humans below.

* * *

_Enterprise: Launch Bay_

_One hour later_

The Launch Bay was crowded when Andie reached it, carrying her heavy case and dressed in her cumbersome gold environmental suit with a few minutes to spare. Archer was there; so was Trip Tucker. Unfortunately, so was Reed. The tactical officer held out a phase pistol and she debated arguing with him over whether or not she should wear one, as she had the first time she'd joined an away team. She stared at the pistol for a long moment, before wordlessly accepting it and tucking it onto the belt at her side. She couldn't help a sly grin at Reed. He'd once tried to make her re-take her weapons certification with him, and had wound up with a blank phase pistol cartridge used for training purposes being discharged against his backside. He remained convinced that she'd done it out of spite, while she continued to insist that it had been an unfortunate, if slightly funny, accident. After all this time, Reed was still not amused.

She descended into the shuttle and the others soon joined her. The room was sealed off, the double doors were opened and the shuttle was dropped down into the blackness outside. Archer sat at the navigational controls and Trip sat in the chair just behind him, the better to get a look outside. Reed and Andie faced off on opposite sides of the bench seats in the back. While Malcolm studied the PADD in front of him as though it contained the mysteries of the universe, Andie just watched Reed.

Her attention made him squirm, especially since Trip was within spitting distance. The engineer might be focused on the large saucer-like ship ahead of them, but that didn't give her leave to ogle him like...what? Like catnip to a starving cat, he decided. Did cats eat catnip, or did they just chew it to make them feel good? He vowed to look that up when he got back to the ship. Right now he had to concentrate on doing his job, and not on the blond woman's chameleon gaze.

Archer guided the little ship through the edges of the asteroid field to the derelict ship. He even made one whole pass around the vessel to seek out any hidden surprises. Trip pointed out what looked like an airlock and they made their way to it. They couldn't get a hard seal to secure life-support to the away team.

"Helmets on!" Archer chirped. He ignored Andie's dour expression in response to his cheeriness as she settled the helmet on her head and pressurized her suit. As soon as the docking arm was sealed against the side of the ship ensuring the pod would not drift away and leave them stranded, Trip reached up and unlocked the seals around the hatch. Before he could open the portal, Reed interjected.

"_I'd like to go first, if you don't mind_," Malcolm stated, lifting the phase pistol out of his holster. "_You don't know what we might find in there."_ His voice was muffled by the speakers in the EV helmet.

"_If anyone's alive, I don't want them worried about an armed man entering their ship unannounced_," Archer objected.

"_I'll attempt to look friendly, sir,"_ Reed promised.

"_Don't forget; this is a rescue mission first and foremost,"_ Archer warned as his tactical officer lifted off the ground and drifted through the hatch in the zero-gravity atmosphere.

In a few moments, Reed's voice came through the comm channels into the helmets of those listening below. _"All clear up here, sir. It's disgusting, but it's all clear."_

Archer flipped open his communicator and sent word to _Enterprise_. "We're entering the ship now. We'll check back in one hour."

"_Acknowledged_," T'Pol's voice carried over the static.

Archer waved Trip up through the opening, and the engineer drifted away.

"_After you,"_ Jon swept his arm in invitation to the doctor.

"_Haven't you heard?"_ Andie retorted. _"It's disgusting up there. Please, after you."_ She mimicked his sweeping arm.

"_Afraid to get dirty, Doc?"_ Archer teased, getting a grip on the portal.

"_Yeah, _that's_ my problem,"_ she snorted as he drifted away from her. For some reason she couldn't put a finger on, she hesitated before following him into the alien ship. Taking a deep breath, she pushed off and drifted through the weightlessness of space. In a few moments she was standing beside the team in the corridor of a strange ship.

Reed was right. It was disgusting inside.

* * *

_Alien ship: Docking hatch_

The alien ship wasn't entirely lifeless; some atmosphere remained, although not enough to sustain the away team. There was also evidence of gravity plating, however it wasn't working at maximum efficiency either, evidenced by lightweight flotsam that drifted idly on unseen drafts like autumn leaves in a light breeze. The main corridor stretched fore and aft as far as the eye could see, curving gently in a wide circle. It reminded Trip of a doughnut wrapped around a transparent apple. He said as much to Reed, who told him he should have had a bigger breakfast before Archer arrived. Andie drifted through the hatch and activated the gravity seal on her boots, planting herself on the floor with a cringe as it squished softly under her boots.

In several locations along the passage there were piles of biological material that lay in sticky lumps against the wall and floor. There was a low level gravity field inside and some of the tendrils of bio-matter waved in the air like streamers at a party. Andie whipped out a scanner and took some readings of the spongy bio-matter while the others tried to determine which direction to go. She knelt down to scrape a sample into a specimen jar. Her gasp caught their attention over the open comm. channel connecting all their helmets.

"_What's wrong?"_ Trip was the first at her side.

"_Turn your lights on this spot right here,"_ Andie indicated with her gloved finger. Gingerly she poked at the thing that caught her attention with a glass tubule from her kit. _"It's an eye,"_ she said, turning her head this way and that for a better glimpse.

In spite of their best intentions, Trip and Archer both took steps backward. _"An eye? Where's the rest of his head?"_ Trip demanded.

Andie continued poking at the bio-matter on the ground. _"I think this is his head,"_ she announced, spooning the liquefied goo into the air and letting it drizzle back to the sticky deck plating. The light gravity let it drizzle slowly like a spider web back to its original pile.

"_Be careful!"_ Reed warned her. _"A ball of material that looked like goo once took hostages in the Cargo Bay."_

"_I don't think this is sentient. Or at least, it's not anymore."_ She determined. With a shrug she screwed the lid back on her sample container and stored it in the medical kit.

"_Can you determine cause of death?"_ Reed asked, his hand immediately creeping closer to the phase pistol at his side.

"_My preliminary exam suggests he was liquefied,"_ she answered dryly. _"And you realize I use the male gender as a generalization here without being certain that this pile of goo even _has_ gender."_

Turning around she saw Reed had drawn his phase pistol. She sighed. _"Is that necessary?"_

"_Something broke the hull and something left those,"_ he indicated the piles of goo. _"That something might still be here."_

Archer looked around them. _"This passage continues in a straight line in both directions. If we split up we can search the ship for survivors much quicker."_

"_Do you really expect to find survivors?"_ Reed asked in a low voice.

"_We're going to look anyway, just in case!"_ Archer spoke firmly. _"How would you feel if rescue came so close and then turned away because it was unpleasant?"_

Reed noticed the doctor eyeing Archer with a thoughtful look on her face. He caught her glance and frowned at her. He couldn't say why that calculating look made him uneasy, but it did. Whatever she was thinking, it didn't bode well for Archer.

"_The doctor and I will head aft,"_ Reed announced to the surprise of his team. He reached down to help the doctor to her feet, not that she needed it in the weightless atmosphere.

Jon had a different idea. _"Actually the doctor and I will head aft,"_ he announced. _"You and Trip head forward. See if you can find the bridge."_

Trip looked a little put out. _"I can go with Andie,"_ he offered with a smile to the female.

"_Am I popular or doesn't anyone want to get stuck with Archer?"_ Andie smiled.

"_Watch it!"_ Archer growled.

"_You're the boss,"_ she pointed out petulantly. _"Nobody wants to get stuck with the boss. It's a fact!"_

"_Well, you're stuck with me,"_ he told her with finality. _"Trip, take Malcolm forward. We'll keep open comm. lines in case anything unexpected comes up."_ Jon pointed in the direction he intended to go and waited until Andie picked up her kit and started in that direction.

Reed and Trip exchanged significant glances before splitting away to head in the opposite direction.

* * *

_Alien ship: Aft Corridor_

The corridors were wide and dark. Except for the piles of bio-matter, there wasn't any sign of life. The bio-matter itself was a problem; giving off faint bio-readings even though there was no way anything survived in the remaining puddles. Walking through the ship and trying not to step on the frequent piles of what were possibly former sentient beings was difficult.

"Why are you so concerned about searching a ship that is clearly empty?" Andie asked, picking her way through the increasingly gooey corridor. This one was pale pink in color; that one was gold. The colors may once have been articles of clothing.

"There's something here," Archer told her. "I want to know what it is before it attacks my ship."

"What makes you so sure something's here?"

"The piles of goo," he answered shortly.

Andie looked at him blankly.

"This ship is open to space," Jon told her. "Space is cold, freezing even. The piles of goo are soggy. They are not frozen solid. Something's here, heating up the ship." He didn't mean to sound condescending, but he did. He continued walking ahead.

"Could just be an engine that was left on," she offered.

"The deck plating isn't vibrating."

"Maybe their inertial dampeners are more advanced than ours."

"And maybe there's something else here. That's why we're investigating." He turned around to hit her with his best paternal leader face when he noticed she wasn't right behind him. The speaker whispering in his ear was deceptive.

She was just a few steps away, having stopped short. Andie was peering up at the dark wall on the interior of the ship. They'd walked far enough that the large dome rising out of the center of the ship extended in an arc above their heads, visible through the many portholes that lined the ceiling of the arching corridor. "The dome should be through that wall," She indicated with a gloved finger.

"Yeah?" Archer stood beside her and craned his neck to look upward. "It's dark right here."

"The dome was transparent on top," Andie noted. "Why would they shade it down below? Unless…" she stepped forward and rested a gloved hand against the inner wall of the alien ship.

Archer reached out to stop her but he was too late. Something behind the darkened glass woke up. Something blinked at them. The eye was dark and wet, much like the bio-matter piles around their feet, but this inky black eye was fully aware of its surroundings on the other side of the dome.

Something knew they were here.

Andie gasped and drew back her hand. All along the darkened glass, other eyes opened. Dozens, even hundreds of eyes watched them. The writhing darkness suddenly stilled on the other side of a transparent fabric that the humans could only hope was stronger than regular glass before going dark again. All the eyes snapped closed at the same time.

"They're pressed up against the glass," Archer said, the words close to her ear through the speaker in her helmet. "There are thousands of them! They've filled the dome!"

"They're reproducing," Andie corrected him grimly. "That's why the seal was missing on the airlock. The vegetation that was in there…they're feeding on it. They're eating everything edible then breeding like crazy." A chill ran down her spine. "We're fresh meat for their newest born." She looked at Archer. "They are locked in there, right?"

Peering mistrustfully at the darkened wall, Archer picked up his communicator. "Trip, Reed? Can you hear me?"

"_There doesn't seem to be any life forms, Captain,"_ Trip's voice crackled over the speaker_. "Just emptiness and goop. I can't make heads or tails out of their bridge console. Wait! I think…."_

"Trip? Don't touch anything!" Archer shouted. Static crept in over his hand-held communicator.

"_There are holes in the hull that couldn't have occurred naturally,"_ Reed chimed in. _"There are places that look as though they were...chewed open."_

"Lieutenant! Don't touch anything! Make for the airlock!" Archer shouted. He reached out to guide the doctor, and it didn't take much encouragement to get her moving. Andie was way ahead of him, scooting around the piles and making for the hatch in their shuttle pod with all possible haste just before she went down.

* * *

_Alien Ship: Forward Corridor_

In the circular cabin that had been the bridge for this vessel, Trip was making little progress. The alien language that labeled everything was a series of vertical lines. It was like trying to read a bar code. It frustrated him to hear a slight hum that indicated machinery was at work, but he couldn't figure out what it did. Plus, he had other things on his mind.

"I can't hear anything," Trip shook his communicator roughly as though trying to shake some sense into the machine.

"You shouldn't have dropped it into a pile of goo," Malcolm told him severely.

"I didn't plan it!" Trip protested. "The floor just gave way beneath me, like it was made of soggy bread!"

"I repeat my suggestion that you should have dined on a hearty breakfast before we started this mission," Reed teased Trip some more.

"You keep that up, Loo-tenant, and I'll find some way to make you bring me breakfast in bed for a week!" Trip countered.

"I live to serve, Commander," Malcolm retorted. His head turned sharply as a slight movement caught his eye. "Did you see something?" He started toward the second door set into the wall. The doors were half-circles that pushed apart in the center. He reached out his hand.

"_Trip, Reed? Can you hear me?"_ The captain's voice crackled over their helmet speakers. Reed jumped at the unexpected sound before glaring at Trip for chuckling.

"There doesn't seem to be any life forms, Captain," Trip raised his voice to be heard over the growing crackle in the speaker. "Just emptiness and goop. I can't make heads or tails out of their bridge console. Wait! I think…." The engineer's voice trailed off as he buried his head in the main computer panel. He'd been hoping to find some record of the misfortune that had befallen the craft and a blinking light had suddenly caught his attention. The captain was shouting something but it wasn't translating over the comm.

Reed gripped Trip's arm with one hand even as he pressed the transmitter button with his other. "There are holes in the hull that couldn't have occurred naturally," Reed chimed in. "There are places that look as though they were...chewed open. Let's not touch anything."

"Yeah, I'm almost ready," Trip grunted, pulling one final time on a square chunk of metal. "It's like they got this jammed in there real good." Finally it came free and Trip flew backward to land heavily on a pile of debris. He glared as Malcolm chuckled. The armory officer pulled him to his feet and helped check his EV suit for tears while Trip triumphantly struggled with the unit in his hand. He removed the small cylinders that most likely carried the memory core and the two men headed back in the direction of the airlock.

Trip couldn't help but notice how often Reed turned around to peer into the darkness behind them. "You think something's gonna jump outta the dark and grab me?" Trip chortled. "You can't come to movie night anymore!"

The armory officer continued to search the darkness around them while shaking his own communicator uselessly. "I think we just lost contact with the captain and the doctor. Let's hurry up," Reed stated with determination, still holding his silent device. It was probably just the graviton field in the asteroid belt they were exploring. That thought didn't offer him any comfort.

"We can't have lost contact," Trip refused to believe. "Let me see your communicator." The engineer reached out a hand. That's when they saw it; Trip's glove was coming apart. It was melting around his fingers where Trip's hand and communicator had met with a gooey pile while trying to remain upright on their way to the bridge area. The white safety foam that was usually deployed to prevent minor tears from opening wide was not filling up the damaged patch. "Oh my God! It's going to depressurize my suit!"

Reed stopped Trip from turning and running back to the airlock. He reached into a pocket in his EV suit and pulled out a tube of instant sealant. He broke the cap off and drizzled a hefty blob onto Trip's dissipating glove. "That'll keep you for a short time," Reed announced. "Let's hurry back to the airlock."

"Do you always carry sealant?" Trip gasped.

"Have you ever been impaled while wearing an EV suit?" Malcolm countered. "Let's go." During their brief job back to the shuttle pod, Malcolm could almost imagine the phantom pains in his upper thigh from the alien probe that had pinned him to the hull. He was relieved to find Archer and Andie lingering at the airlock hatch when they arrived. Andie was limping. Her EV suit bore a ring of heavy tape around her calf.

"She sank through the floor like it was made of rotten wood," Archer panted. "Something burned a hole in her suit."

"Are you all right?" Trip reached out a hand, but it was the one covered in goo and he didn't dare touch anything.

"I always carry heavy-duty engineering tape with me," she nodded, pale behind her transparent helmet.

"Do you now?" Trip repeated with a sudden grin at Malcolm.

"Have you ever been stuck in a cargo hold that's losing pressure by the second?" She countered archly. "You look like you had a run-in too." She gestured to his gooey hand.

"It was almost a flesh wound," Trip acknowledged grimly.

Archer had paused long enough to make sure the landing party was in one piece before sliding down the narrow opening through which they had arrived. Reed was peering into the hole, waiting to send the next crewman down after when Archer's head popped back up. "Isn't this the hatch where we parked our shuttle?" he asked.

"Of course it is!" Malcolm insisted.

"That's not funny, Cap'n!" Trip added.

Beside him, Andie gulped loudly. "Dude, where's our shuttle?"

"It's not where we left it," Archer supplied irritably.

"FUBAR," she muttered with a look over one shoulder at the darkness behind her. She tried not to think of all the places that a tiny space creature could be hiding in the gloom behind her.

"What is FUBAR?" Trip asked. Although he was accustomed to her cursing in a variety of alien languages, in addition to the usual English ones, he was doubly surprised when Reed answered first.

"Fouled Up Beyond All Recognition," Malcolm supplied before the doctor's more colorful language could be called into play. He took a turn to peer into the darkened tube that had once housed a functional airlock. His view was impeded by the captain still loitering there.

"That's one interpretation," Andie muttered dryly as she arched an eyebrow. "What would you call FUBAR?" Reed held up his hands to indicate he had no idea. "I'd say when you're stuck on a ship of carnivores and your shuttle isn't where you left it. That's FUBAR." She was quite proud of the way her voice did not quiver with nerves when she stated the obvious.

Trip nudged Reed aside to take his turn at poking his head into the shaft to get a look at the problem, trying not to touch anything with his recently repaired and still slightly sticky glove.

The shuttle pod that had transported them over here so efficiently was no longer holding its seal on the busted airlock hatch below them.

It was gone. And they were stuck.

"Did you say carnivores?" Trip repeated with concern, his blue gaze following Andie's into the dark corridor behind them.

"It's a working theory," Andie offered blandly. "It would account for the piles of bio-matter lying around."

"Maybe there aren't any left on board," Trip suggested. "Maybe they got their fill and left."

"They're breeding in the dome," she answered. "There are more of them now. And they know we're here."


	2. Chapter 2

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter Two

Disclaimers: See Chapter One

* * *

_Alien vessel: Airlock hatch_

"Cap'n, I don't mean to rush you, but we're really going to need that shuttle pod!" Trip spoke urgently to the man still resting in the airlock hatchway.

"I think I can see it," Archer gasped. If he squinted very hard and adjusted his spine in ways it was never meant to go in the bulky gold EV suit and the narrow conduit, he could just make out the gloom of the stellar landscape outside. "It's just drifted away. It's not too far. I think I can reach it with the directional thrusters on my suit."

"You've got to be kidding!" Andie exclaimed.

"There's got to be another way!" Trip insisted. "It's not an easy job on a good day, but in these conditions one wrong turn could mean disaster! You could drift out of range!"

Andie jumped in as soon as he stopped for air. "You're the captain! You can't go! Your oxygen supply will run out very quickly if you're going to be using it for your thrusters to maneuver through the asteroid field. And then who would be here to bully us around?"

Three pairs of eyes turned to stare at the bossy female with matching raised eyebrows of disbelief. After a discreet pause, the debate continued.

"Whoever goes out there will have to be very quick and precise. And a great deal of luck wouldn't hurt either," Reed added. He wondered how hard it would be to get the captain out of the hatchway long enough to go out there himself.

There was another brief silence between the foursome while Andie and Trip remained firm in their protests, Reed calculated odds, and Archer glared at Andie. He was sure this was all her fault somehow. He would certainly like it to be, at any rate.

As though sensing his thoughts were upon her, she spoke up. "I'll go," Andie volunteered quickly. "Dad always said I had the damndest luck."

"No, I'll go," Archer rolled his eyes. "This is my call. I'm already in position." He was still half in the open hatchway.

"With all due respect, sir, the doctor is the most agile in weightless space." Reed backed her up. He'd seen her maneuver effortlessly in zero-grav like a bird in flight.

"Are you telling me I'm not agile, Lieutenant?" Archer inquired with a hint of irritation in his voice. He found he was anxious to keep a brave front up for the benefit of the female in the team. He didn't want to appear weak in front of her. She set his teeth on edge.

"No, sir, I never mean to imply…" Malcolm flushed inside his helmet.

"I'm going, Malcolm," Archer repeated. "That way we can be certain the pod will come back for us." He offered the doctor a hard look as he made that assertion.

Andie scowled through her face plate. "You really think I'd leave _Tucker_ here to die?" One eyebrow arched over her wide eyes. It was easy to miss the teasing tone.

"Now _I'm_ the popular one," Trip chuckled softly as he stepped back from the open hole that used to be an airlock entry while Reed scowled at the doctor.

"You know if the ship is being overrun by carnivores, the armory officer would be the most useful person keep around," the lieutenant muttered quietly.

"If you want to be useful, go follow the captain and keep him out of trouble," Andie nagged good-naturedly.

Even though Reed had been preparing to do just as she suggested, her officious attitude made him want to stay behind just to get under her skin. On the other hand, Archer could use someone trustworthy at his back, and Malcolm thought he was a better candidate than the doctor, especially since the engineer wasn't able to go. A weakened EV suit shouldn't be exposed to open space any more than necessary.

With one last dark look at the crabby female, Reed disappeared through the narrow opening that led to the wider black of outer space. His work out there took up all his concentration and made it impossible to consider how the doctor, standing too close to the engineer, disturbed Malcolm's comfort.

* * *

_Outside the alien vessel:_

Archer directed Reed to hold his position against the hull of the alien ship and offer observations and suggestions about his maneuvers, which the tactical officer did reluctantly. Protocol may insist that he silence his objections but that didn't mean he couldn't offer a reproving look to get his point across. The captain was taking an unnecessary risk for no good reason when Reed was ready and able to do whatever was necessary to keep the ship safe! Archer ignored the dark look sent his way and pushed off the foreign vessel.

The shuttle pod loitered in space just about ten meters from the larger ship. Part of the retractable docking clamp lingered on the roof, standing stiffly in the vacuum of space. It looked as though a giant hand had ripped it away from its moorings. There was not likely to be any atmosphere remaining inside, although Jon could still hope that there was not any mechanical damage and that they could return to _Enterprise_ without incident.

"Adjust your heading, sir, a little to your left," Malcolm's voice cut through Jon's thoughts.

Looking forward in the bulky helmet, Archer could see that he was indeed drifting away from his objective. He emitted a small burst of air from the directional thrusters and his trajectory shifted slightly. Once he collided with the smaller craft, it was just a matter of sealing his boots to the hull and stepping up to the opening on the ceiling, which he accomplished long before gasping his last oxygenated breath, in spite of the doctor's misgivings, he thought triumphantly.

"The shuttle is beginning to drift into the path of the asteroids, sir. Don't loiter up there." Reed fussed. "You could be knocked off balance."

"I've got it under control, Malcolm," Archer admonished his lieutenant gently. Now that he was standing on top of the dorsal opening, he could see that the flexible material had developed a tear. A rather large hole had appeared in the docking clamp and it would be next to impossible to get another lock on the side of the ship. Jon took a moment to be grateful they were all wearing EV suits.

"_Cap'n? Can you hear me?" _Trip's voice carried over the comm. channel.

"Trip, I made it to the shuttle," Archer spoke clearly, enjoying the star field from the top of the tumbling vessel in spite of the sickening spin. "There's some minor damage but we'll be back to pick you up in short order."

"_Cap'n? There's something…should see. …out of nowhere."_ Static was chopping up the sentences. _"Andie! Don't….!" _Jon grimaced. That was easier to understand.

"I'm on my way back! Stay put!" Archer commanded. "Reed! See what you can do to help!" Awkwardly he dropped through the hatch and prepared to pick up his crew.

* * *

_Inside the alien vessel: _

"Did you break the skin?" Andie nodded through the faceplate at Trip's hurried glove repair as Reed disappeared into the narrow hatch.

"I slipped. It's nothing that won't keep. It itches though," he mentioned as he tried to scratch the palm of his hand against the EV suit and relieve the sensation, without taking off his glove which would be disastrous, or smearing valve sealant on anything, which would be worse. In the halfway habitable atmosphere of the alien ship, the sealant wasn't drying as quickly as it should. "They must have some kind of depressurization safeguards still working," he murmured to himself. "I'd love to find their engines."

"Sickbay, first thing when we return," Andie advised sternly. Quickly she dug into her med kit and used a roll of bandage to wrap around the gooey mass. It added the benefit of relieving Trips' worry that he might accidentally superglue himself to something he would not want to be permanently attached to.

"Yes, Doc," Trip snapped off a salute with his bandaged hand.

They both stopped, helmets swiveling in tandem as they heard a sound in the near perimeter. Something rustled in the darkness.

"Did you hear that?" Andie whispered.

"It's an old, damaged ship. It's likely to make noises," Trip offered, even as he withdrew his phase pistol awkwardly with his left hand. His blue eyes remained pinned on the dark corridor where the potential noise came from.

"It's an old ship whose former crew is probably alien chow," Andie muttered. The speaker carried her worries directly to Tucker's ear.

"You know, that's a mental image I could have lived without," he told her unceremoniously. He turned so that the lights on his EV helmet illuminated the long passage that Andie and Archer had traversed a short time ago.

"There were hundreds of them down there," Andie told him, alertness showing through every pore. "Possibly thousands."

"Think any of them mighta gotten up and walked out to greet us?" _Was he imagining things or did he see a flash of movement down there?_ His torch flickered from side to side as he twisted awkwardly around, trying to catch a glimpse of movement.

"They were sealed into the clear dome," Andie offered. "Unless they can work the door latches, they are probably still there." She didn't sound convinced.

"Maybe they chewed through the outer dome," Trip presented the new idea, disregarding that he had just refused such bleak suggestions from the doctor.

"That's a mental image _I_ could have lived without," Andie stated in no uncertain terms as she too turned her lights down the long and dimly lit corridor behind her. She could swear she heard a rustle. _Maybe it was teeth chomping_, her mind suggested. She ignored that voice. _Technically, the crew hadn't been eaten. They'd been liquefied and imbibed_. She ignored that voice too. _If the creatures were on the move, she and Tucker were standing ducks right here._ "Ducks sit," she mumbled out loud, mentally correcting herself.

"What?" Tucker turned his head around to get a better look at her. It couldn't be a good thing when a member of your team suddenly started spouting gibberish.

"Grammar lesson," Andie responded absently.

"Is this really the time for…?" He never got to finish his question. A door on the inner ship's wall suddenly slid open. Both crewmen whirled around to intercept it with phase pistols drawn. A figure stumbled through it.

"Hello there!" Trip called out. "We're here to help!"

The bi-pedal creature staggered out of the doorway with the jerky movements of someone who had lost control of their motor functions. Its flat face was bulging outward like a water balloon filled to excess, wiping all facial features into the smoothness of an egg. It gurgled and muttered as it tilted forward on shaky legs.

"Don't move!" Andie commanded. "I'm a doctor…a medic…_ain physico_," she attempted a variety of words and languages to get her meaning across. "State the nature of your condition!"

The humanoid alien gargled and stuttered as it stumbled forward.

Two flashes of light brightened the dim corridor as both humans fired their weapons at the poor creature still lurching toward them. It fell to the ground with a wet squishing sound. The sound of their respiration was harsh and swift inside their helmets. Andie gulped as she snuck a look at Trip. He didn't take his eyes off the fallen alien as he holstered his phase pistol and pulled out his communicator with his one good hand. She took a deep breath and stepped toward the creature, holstering her pistol also, and holding her medical tri-corder at the ready.

"Cap'n? Can you hear me?" Trip's voice carried over the comm. channel.

"_Trip, I made…the shuttle,"_ Archer's voice was intermittent. _"Th-… minor damage but we'll be… in short order."_

"Cap'n? There's somethin' you should see. It just came at us out of nowhere." He saw the doctor step closer to the fallen alien and reach out a hand. 'Wait! Andie! Don't touch it," the engineer cautioned, stepping forward with a hand out to stop her. His whole attention was on the doctor and the newcomer. The flash of movement out of the corner of his eye came too late to deflect it.

Something hit him in the chest plate. Something bore him to the ground with nightmarish sluggishness in the decompressing interior. Something was made almost entirely of teeth from Trips' perspective. He was afraid that he would be snacked upon by the Something until that Something was struck by a heavy case and flung into the nearby wall.

Before he could fully process the event, Andie had used the medical case as a battering ram again and dealt a second blow against the small creature now gaining its footing. After bouncing off the wall it emitted a high-pitched barking sound, like a hyena's laugh. Up close, she got a good look at the attacker and what she saw made her step backward in a hurry. There wasn't time to grab her weapon.

A bright beam of light burst through the darkness. The phase pistol discharged against the laughing creature and it fell silently to the floor, where it didn't quite settle on the ground, but almost floated eerily in the failing atmosphere of the broken alien ship.

Turning her head, Andie saw Reed poking a head and one arm through the open hatch. He gripped his pistol tightly as he finished climbing out of the narrow gap. "Is everybody all right?" Malcolm asked as he clambered to his feet.

For once Andie didn't speak but he could see her nod her head inside her helmet. He took that as confirmation that she was uninjured. His assumption seemed justified when she immediately returned to her knees to take a closer look at the first fallen victim.

"They just attacked us without warning," Trip gasped, gesturing with his bandaged hand.

"We should try and get them back to _Enterprise_ for further study," Reed suggested, turning his friend this way and that, searching for new tears in the life-sustaining suit. He was relieved not to find any significant breaks; the safety foam had deployed for the minor ruptures and sealed them before Tucker had even noticed they were there.

"How are we going to get that guy back to the ship? We're losing atmosphere in a hurry!" Trip protested, waving at Andie's charge.

"He can be transported in a body bag," Andie announced, rising to her feet and grimacing at the bulging, squishy form. "He won't need to worry about atmospheric conditions."

"What about that one?" Reed pointed the business end of his weapon at the creature he'd stunned.

"I'll take care of that," Andie stated with certainty. She flicked the latches open on the medical case once again. With a flick of her wrist, the contents spewed across the floor and emptied the container. She used the empty case to scoop the creature off the floor and into the durable container, securing the latches. Then she offered an arched eyebrow at Commander Tucker. "I hope you're not going to need any more bandages before we reach the medical lab," Andie murmured, watching bits of gauze and little tubes drift down the dark hallway in the semi-gravitational state inside the ship.

"I'll do my best to remain unharmed," Trip promised. "What the hell was that thing?"

"I've never seen anything like it," Andie assured him. "Although I didn't get a good look at it before I shut the lid." She reached out and snatched the reaper's black bag that drifted by in the semi-atmosphere and began unrolling it for its grim task.

"_Archer to Tucker!"_

The static over the comm jolted them all. They laughed at their jumpiness before Trip flipped the button to communicate. "Tucker here."

"_I've reached the outer hatch. How are things up there? I thought I heard weapon's fire?"_

"We're on our way to you now," Trip promised. "And we picked up a couple of guests."

* * *

_Enterprise: Sickbay_

_Late morning_

True to her word, Andie marched Trip directly into Sickbay as soon as they had passed the Decon scans. The damage that had been done to both her suit and his was superficial; neither clumsy action had torn completely through the gold material, although the outer surface of her pant leg was beginning to look as though a swarm of moths had nested there. Fine holes were beginning to spread through the fabric. She suspected that under Trip's sticky glove, his suit would be in a similar state. Disrobing had been tricky, to say the least. Both suits had been sent to a science lab for investigation.

"I'll have that container taken to one of the science labs, too," Archer, already dressed in his blue uniform, tilted his head in the direction of the medical case- turned-alien taxi, which was already under guard by a MACO, called in by Reed before the shuttle had completely landed. The bi-ped's body was already inside the imaging chamber, about to offer the humans the first look at its interior.

"I should have been there," Malcolm added, fussing nervously with his already pristine uniform collar. He didn't like the idea that he had left two crewmembers to be attacked without a trained security officer, even if they were both quite capable of taking care of themselves, as their new hostage could attest.

"Don't worry about. We had everything under control." Andie, dressed in light blue scrubs, finished pulling her hair into a ponytail and patted his shoulder.

"What the hell is that noise?" Trip shouted over the noise that was growing in volume; it just kept getting louder. He covered himself more securely with the thin robe available in Sickbay. Andie wouldn't let him dress until she'd viewed the minor injury on his arm, and he was feeling a little exposed in his underpants and tee shirt.

"That's Leon," Andie answered equally loudly. She bent down to retrieve the cat but he ducked away from her restraining hand and went on with his caterwauling. "Shut up, Cat!" she bellowed, but it did no good. He continued to wail and growl in turn. Jojo had long since departed her pillow on top of the shelves, presumably disturbed by her companion's noise.

"How long do you think the autopsy will take?" Archer shouted over Leon's wails.

"I'd like to see to Tucker first," Andie put off the distasteful task as she sipped from a thermos she'd picked up from the main work station.

"If you don't silence that cat, I'm going to shoot him!" Reed announced, straining to be heard.

The look on the doctor's face would have turned a Klingon to ice. "Don't you dare touch my cat!" she threatened darkly. One quick lunge and the emperor squirmed in her arms. Marching across the room, she tossed the restless kitty into the CMO's office and shut the doors. The wails were mostly contained behind the durable door.

"Your feline is agitated," T'Pol stated clearly as she entered the room. "His cries can be heard all the way to the turbo-lift."

"Something's wrong with him," Andie shrugged. "I'll check him out after I'm done with Tucker." She gestured carelessly over her shoulder at the man sitting on the bio-bed. She didn't seem to mind that he was mostly undressed in a growing crowd of crewmates. Trip shifted his robe again.

"Captain, I have an update," T'Pol turned her attention to her superior. Archer's green eyes held her attention and kept her from locking her gaze on every inch of Commander Tucker in order to ascertain his injury. It couldn't be life-threatening if Dr. Andie wasn't worried about it, and there didn't seem to be any visible physical damage. _The Chief Engineer's health was important to the crew_, she told herself when she wondered why she cared about his minor injury.

"The asteroid field is not an asteroid field at all," the Vulcan continued, ignoring the blond engineer altogether. She stepped up to the main view screen in the small room as Andie puttered around with vials and scanners and hypo-sprays behind her. A more detailed scan of the star system showed up on the main monitor in the medical ward. "It appears to be the remnant of a planetary body long since destroyed. The lack of a discernable dispersal pattern seems to be due to the gravimetric pull of the inhabited planet. The remains appear to be holding more or less in place."

"There used to be another planet here?" Archer inquired. "What happened to it?"

"I think she said it was destroyed," Andie supplied helpfully as she fussed with Trip's hands.

"I heard her," Archer growled at the doc. He turned his attention back to his science officer. "What kind of phenomenon could do that?"

"I cannot say with certainty but the destruction of a planetary body would require a formidable weapon." T'Pol offered.

Reed was instantly alert. "What kind of weapon?" He was already mentally calculating the particle yield necessary to blow up Earth's moon. _As a comparison, of course_, he mentally checked himself. Some might think it strange to consider destroying Earth's closest satellite, but one could never know when that information might come in handy. _For defensive purposes_, he mentally added again.

"The radioactivity of the debris field is comparable to the radioactivity on the medieval planet's surface, suggesting that they were both involved in whatever event created the debris field. Upon closer examination, it would appear that the radiation on the surface of the remaining planet has nearly dispersed. The surface of the planet contains several thousand life-forms and a complete eco-system."

"What are you suggesting?" Andie interrupted. "That the inhabitants of one planet destroyed the entire planet closest to them?" She finished applying analgesic gel to Trip's hand and just stood there with the jar and the applicator in hand.

"That is one explanation," T'Pol agreed.

"I thought you said this planet was experiencing a medieval period?" Trip interjected. He was trying to peek under his new band-aid and earning a dark look from his doctor. "How'd they get the technology for nuclear weapons and space travel?"

"I cannot answer that. Perhaps another species is responsible for the destruction of the planet."

"Maybe it was the owners of the alien vessel," Archer suggested.

"That is not likely," T'Pol refuted. "Their ship is not as aged as the damage to the former planetary body."

The double doors swung open. "Xhardin!" Hoshi exclaimed as she entered the room, waving a PADD.

"Bless you!" Trip responded with a grin as he hopped off the table and joined the others refastening his robe.

"That's not a sneeze; that's the name on the side of the alien vessel," Hoshi rolled her eyes at the engineer.

"Is that the name of the species or the vessel itself?" Archer wondered.

"I think it's the name of the ship. The other marking suggests a numerical digit. The ship in the asteroid field is the Xhardin Four, I think," Hoshi stated with satisfaction.

"What happened to the Xhardin One, Two and Three?" Reed wondered out loud. "Did they destroy each other before they destroyed the planetary body?"

"The Xhardin are pacifists," Andie interjected to the surprise of all.

All eyes turned to the doctor. Her pant leg was rolled up as she had been attending to her own injury, but at Hoshi's entrance, she had moved to the main computer terminal. In her hand she held an old journal, kept on heavy-weight paper, bound with leather and painstakingly written out by hand by its previous owner.

"They are interstellar gardeners. They travel through the stars and collect rare specimens. The gardens on their homeworld are legendary." Andie took a deep breath at the collection of expressions turned her way. "They would not have destroyed a planet," she finished self-consciously.

"How in the world would you know that?" Reed inquired with a frown.

"I thought you said you'd never heard of them," Archer glared.

"My father mentioned the Xhardin in his journal." Andie held up the book. "I've never met them. He did."

"I'd like to see that," Archer held out a hand.

Andie took care to rip out the two pages that held the information and offered the parchment before pocketing the rest of the journal. Her actions made the frown lines deepen on Archer's forehead.

"You're just handing this over now?" He stared at the doctor. She'd lied to him before and he didn't like to think she'd started that again.

"Hoshi just translated the name of the vessel. I informed you as soon as I knew I recognized it from my father's writings."

"How much more information do you have?" The pages she'd handed him were scribbled in a script so tiny it made his head hurt just to look at them. Not a single iota of space had been wasted. It was neat and precise and darn near impossible to read, not just because a great many words and phrases appeared to be written in languages other than English.

"It's just a couple of pages. Apparently Dad sat next to one in some space port and they talked for a couple of hours." The most accomplished and revered doctor Earth ever produced was Dr. André Brainerd, Andie's father. He'd spent the better part of his career working off-world and his exploits were the subject of much conjecture and fantasy among humans.

"But you have more pages, more journals with input that could be useful?" Archer demanded quietly. His voice had grown soft and quiet, but that didn't mean he was at ease.

"It's not mine to give. The research belongs to my father. I can't hand it over without his permission."

Jon waved the papers around. "But you can hand over this right now?"

Andie looked him in the eye. "At the moment that information is important to this ship."

Jon stood up straight. "You will hand over all his journals to Ensign Sato for study," he demanded.

"No, I won't." Andie's voice was quiet but firm. "Dad doesn't work for Starfleet. You cannot compel his research without his permission. I'm not about to hand over potentially sensitive data to a entity that may use the information at their discretion and for their own gain anymore than you would hand over schematics to you father's Warp Five engine to another species!"

"It's not the same thing!"

"It's exactly the same!" Andie countered.

"Lives may be saved by the information contained in there!"

"If it comes to that, I'll let you know, as I've done here."

"I'm supposed to trust your judgment that you know when and where that line is?"

"Yes," Andie replied evenly.

The room was uncomfortably silent, except for the two combatants.

"As soon as we're done here I want you off my ship!" His voice was lethally soft.

Andie didn't have the good sense to back down. "That's an empty threat and you know it!"

"I will not have secrets on board this ship!"

"You can't compel personal information from a private citizen without due cause!"

"I have plenty of cause!" He waved the papers around as though they explained everything.

"Then get a warrant!" The doctor was implacable.

Trip coughed into his hand to interrupt gently. "I think we're getting off topic."

Archer handed the pair of pages to Hoshi. "Translate these! Make sure she's telling the truth!" He looked at T'Pol. "Get a science team to look at the creature that attacked Tucker!" He pinned Andie with his gaze. "Get that autopsy done!"

"Captain?" Trip asked quietly.

"Get that shuttle pod repaired, Commander! Get back to work, all of you! We can't linger in this system forever!" He stomped out of the room without looking back, assuming they would carry out his orders. The sooner they finished this puzzle, the sooner he could get that damned woman off his ship!

The small group that was left behind looked at each other uncomfortably for a long moment.

"I have a translation to finish," Hoshi muttered, scurrying for the door. Reed studied the doctor intently before nodding curtly and following the Comm. officer out the door.

"Can I put my pants back on?" Trip begged.

"Go ahead," Andie waved him off. "Let me know about itching and swelling." He departed.

T'Pol was the one who lingered. "I would like to observe the autopsy. Please contact me when you are ready to proceed."

"Should be right after lunch," Andie told her, not meeting her eyes. Instead she fussed over the few supplies that were remnants of her work on Trip's rash. "He's never going like me, is he?"

"Is his esteem of you important?" T'Pol inquired.

The younger woman took the time to consider the request. "Not really," she decided.

"Then his temper is of no concern to you." That should have ended the conversation but T'Pol had one more statement to make. "If Captain Archer were to seek a warrant with the proper authorities on Earth, he would most likely receive one."

"U.E.S.P.A would have an injunction on that order before the ink dries."

_That was interesting_, T'Pol thought. _The other human agency was working hard to take care of the Brainerds._ "I have duties to attend," T'Pol nodded as a way of taking her leave.

* * *

_Enterprise: Ready Room_

_After Lunch_

A short time later Archer growled at the person who rang the bell outside his Ready Room even though he wanted to be left alone. "Enter!" he barked.

T'Pol slipped inside.

"What?" he demanded when she remained silent.

"You asked that Dr. Andie not keep secrets from you. By offering the information freely she was trying to comply."

"What else is she keeping from us? That's what I want to know!" He was fuming.

"You knew that she had his journals," T'Pol pointed out. "You do not have authority to demand them. She offered what she could."

"What if she has more?"

"It's almost certain that she does. I am certain she will offer what information she can when it is necessary to our mission," T'Pol offered serenely. "If you want the doctor to trust you, you must also trust her."

Archer sighed. "That's not easy." He longed for the days when he could select his own crew without concern for the input of admirals and administrators on Earth. The fact that he'd had a great deal of autonomy in this matter and that this was the first time they had elected to place someone on board didn't excuse the frustration he felt at having his hands tied by a crewmate he didn't know if he could rely upon.

"Trust is never easy." T'Pol considered mentioning that she saw many similar characteristics in both the doctor and the captain, but she thought he might not be prepared to consider such details at present. She concentrated on the work at hand. "The journal pages contained a few other items of information: a description of a blue nebula, part of a formula for nutrient packs, and the beginnings of a shopping list. I believe Dr. Brainerd, Sr. enjoys chocolate covered raisins."

_Ah! Secrets worth keeping!_ Jon snorted silently. "What did Hoshi learn about the Xhardin from those pages?"

"From Dr. Brainerd's journal, she learned exactly what Dr. Andie said. The Xhardin are reputed to be peaceful botanists. It is doubtful they destroyed a planet."

"That only leaves the medieval planet," Archer sighed. "Try and bring the ship closer. Maybe we can get a better idea of their capabilities. If they can destroy a whole planet, that is something we should determine immediately."

T'Pol nodded. Before she turned to go, she looked at Archer. "Should I call Dr. Andie to your Ready Room?"

"Why?"

"She should know that you believe mutual trust to be both difficult and worthwhile."

"I'll tell her myself," Archer assured her reluctantly. He just didn't think he had to tell her right away.

* * *

_Enterprise: Sickbay_

_Early afternoon_

Dr. Andie was dressed in the silver surgical garb in preparation for her autopsy on the dead alien when the double doors to Sickbay swished open. Apprehension at the entrance faded as she recognized the familiar dark-haired crewman from Engineering.

"Hey! Doc!" Rostov chirped easily. He scanned the room to make certain they were alone before he said anything else.

"Hey, Mike," she greeted him easily, ignoring the headache that was plaguing her.

"I hate to push you, but did you ever get the results of my medial scan?" Rostov asked worriedly, lowering his voice in case unseen medical personnel might be listening.

"I did," she nodded. She'd completed it right after she'd checked out Leon. Her cat may sound like he was in terrible distress, but there was nothing physically wrong with him. Illness she could treat, but if her cat was mentally distressed, there was nothing she could do for him except worry.

She crossed the room and picked up the medical logbook to verify her facts. "You'll be happy to know that you are in fine physical condition, and that you are cleared for whatever form of physical intimacy you wish." A sly look crossed her face to hide her worry. "Anyone I know?" she probed with an easy grin.

"There are less than one hundred people on board, Doc," Rostov acknowledged. "I think you've met her."

"Oh! It's a 'her'!" Andie crooned. "That narrows it down. There are less than two dozen females on board." Regretfully she sobered slightly. "This is the point where I caution you about the use of safe sexual practices. I have a variety of pamphlets in my office if you'd like. They cover a wide variety of topics including disease, safe practices, technique, toys, fantasy role-playing--"

The engineer cut her off. "That's okay, Doc," Rostov held up a hand with an embarrassed expression. "I think I've got the rest of it covered."

"Sure," she answered agreeably. "Keep in mind that although you are fully aware of your physical condition, you can't be aware of hers. Be cautious and maintain safety protocols until you can be certain that your physical coupling is safe for both partners."

"Thanks, Doc," Rostov flushed again. He started to leave but turned back. "I thought it would be weird to have a female doctor on board, but you're not as bad as I expected."

"Um, thanks," Andie snorted. She watched him depart with a half-smile on her face. At least she wasn't hated by everybody on board. She took a deep breath and pressed the comm. button to inform T'Pol of her intent to begin the autopsy. Autopsies were rarely fun but at least this one promised some added excitement. When the science officer arrived a few minutes later, she was accompanied by a MACO, and Andie snorted quietly at Reed's paranoia. T'Pol donned a similar silver suit and the doctor brought forth the body on a gurney.

What they found inside the dead alien was a little more than they bargained for.

* * *

_Enterprise: Bridge Science Station_

_Early afternoon_

Trip looked over the table top display with great interest. Hoshi hadn't wasted any time in deciphering the cylinders that Trip had liberated from the Xhardin Four and had enlisted Travis' help to make them compatible with the human computer on board. They'd worked through lunch and their hard work was rewarded by Trip's fascination with what turned out to be data reels. The last days of the alien crew were recorded for posterity.

Both men exclaimed eagerly over the ship's schematics. Although it wouldn't reach Warp Five, it had other amenities that made it worth the investigation, including an emergency energy bubble around the ship that would maintain pressure inside in the event of a hull rupture for a period of time until the rip could be repaired. According to the logs, the ship was losing power and would not be sustaining the thin bubble much longer.

"It's amazing," Trip breathed. "With a little tender, lovin' care she could fly outta here tomorrow!"

"Well, maybe next week," Travis adjusted conservatively.

"They were planning on taking a walk on one of the asteroid pieces," Hoshi determined, hovering around, although she had downloaded the relevant logs onto a data pad.

"You think that's where they found those things?" Travis asked.

"There's not much written in the logs after the aliens set out," Hoshi noted. "Whatever happened to them, happened quickly."

Both men looked at each other with expressions of trepidation that were quickly wiped away when Hoshi looked back at them. She didn't like creepy things in space to begin with, and that was before a reptile race had implanted mind-controlling bugs in her head six months ago.

"_Ensign Pierce to Commander Tucker!"_ The call sounded over the speaker.

"Tucker here," Trip responded with his hand on the wall-mounted receptor.

"Could you come down to the Shuttle Bay? There's something you might want to see."

Trip and Travis exchanged looks. "I'm on my way," Tucker answered, flipping the sound off. "Keep at it, you two. Tell me what happened to the crew of the Xhardin." He strode off through the sliding door.

* * *

_Enterprise: Shuttle Bay_

_Early afternoon _

Ensign Jeffrey Pierce waited atop the trusty little shuttle to show his findings to Commander Tucker. The southern gentleman strode through the door and swung down the narrow ladder to crouch next to the young man whose fresh face looked like he'd never set foot off the farm.

"I've determined this to be the weak spot, sir." Pierce pointed out the hole in the side of the retractable docking clamp. "Once this little hole had breached the docking arm, the pressure differences between the interior of the shuttle and open space blew the whole thing outward, creating the larger tear." The young man pulled the flexible material inside out. "I think this is what made the first leak, sir."

Inside the rubbery material was a viscid substance. In attempting to wriggle the stubborn material into a position that Tucker could see, Pierce dragged his fingers through it and drew them back sharply.

"Ouch!" he gasped. He peered at his finger, thinking he had caught it on an unseen shard of metal and nearly placed the injured digit in his mouth to soothe it.

Tucker reached out and caught his wrist in a firm grip. "You'd better not be about to stick an alien substance in your mouth without knowin' what it is first!"

Jeff looked down at his finger in surprise and horror. "No, sir," he denied sharply, feeling sick at what he'd nearly done. "But it itches!" He started to rub his hand on his pant leg.

Trip didn't release the arm. "Cooper!" The old man turned around. "Get this kid to the doctor. Tell her to look at his hand, and for God's sake, don't let him touch anything, especially himself!"

"Aye, sir!" Both the older man and the young man answered obediently. Once the youngster was gone, Trip looked at the sticky stain with more cautious interest. Something blew out their docking clamp and set their ship afloat through space. _Was it sabotage or was it dumb luck? And what was that gooey junk?_

"Kelby?" he called out again. Kelby stepped forward. "Get this repaired, wouldja? And use the hazardous materials protocol."

"Yes, sir," Kelby snapped off a salute. No matter how many times Trip told him to stop that, he always maintained the habit. The junior lieutenant believed it made him look good in the eyes of his superiors, ignorant of the irritation his attitude engendered in the men he tried to impress.

Carefully Trip cut a small section of the tainted material out of the remains of the docking clamp. He thought the doctor or the chief science officer might enjoy looking at whatever this was.

Little did he know, they already had their hands full.

* * *

_Enterprise: Sickbay turned Autopsy_

_Early afternoon._

T'Pol had sat through a variety of life science classes on Earth and the inside of a humanoid body was nothing new to her. But the Xhardin alien's body was something else indeed. For one thing, it was soggier than any body she'd ever studied.

"What prompted a physical analysis of the body?" T'Pol inquired. She looked with distaste at the puddle that had resulted when Andie's dissection of the scalp had emitted a tidal wave of brain matter, some of which had not been completely solid. Maintenance would not be happy with this clean up task.

"The imaging chamber showed a dark substance wrapped around the central nervous system," Andie replied, using a silver-bladed scalpel to slice through yet another organ in the body cavity that seemed to want to fall apart on its own. They all seemed to pop and deflate like dry balloons when poked with a sharp object.

"What makes the dark substance require this invasive procedure?" T'Pol wanted to know, dodging another flailing body part.

"The scanner couldn't penetrate the bio-matter, although it seems to be foreign to the native condition." Andie glanced up at the monitor which presented deep tissue scans of the inner cavity. "Something liquefied the crew of the Xhardin. I thought the dark matter might give us a clue what happened." Andie looked up suddenly. "There it is! What do you make of this?" She shuttled aside several pieces of flesh, making the Vulcan glad that she was already a vegetarian, as she stepped closer to make a deeper inspection.

There was a pod buried under the organs of the alien's interior. Deep inside the body cavity an oblong shape was pressed up against what would be considered the spinal column in humans. The oblong shape was dark in color and gleamed wetly under the lights, in contrast to the dryness of the rest of the core.

T'Pol waved a scanner over the object. "It is dissimilar to the rest of the alien's physiology."

Andie tapped the point of her cutting tool against the hard surface. "Yeah, the rest is soggy," she snorted.

"I meant this object contains a dissimilar genetic structure." The science officer was fascinated.

"This alien has an alien on its back?" Andie questioned.

"The second alien is not _on_ its back, rather it is _inside_ and _against_ its back," T'Pol corrected the doctor for clarity.

"Right," Andie drawled the word sarcastically. "Kind of looks like an ostrich egg. Hard exterior." She stopped murmuring and moved her hand scanner down to the Xhardin's knees. Then she moved it back up to his cranium. She repeated the gesture. "Hunh," she grunted. "The computer is picking up a life-sign on this creature, but it's clearly dead. You can see where the interior is drying up and the tri-corders are picking up fresh decomp. But the life-sign is registering directly over the spinal column." She looked at the Vulcan. "I think it's coming from the egg." Her lips pursed. "He's not a zombie at all!"

T'Pol ignored the disappointment in the doctor's voice. "You and Archer were convinced that the bio-dome was full of life-signs on the Xhardin ship," T'Pol noted. "You believed they were breeding. It appears you were just picking up the presence of these eggs."

Andie looked at the mess of the interior of the body cavity for a long moment with her forehead screwed up tightly in a frown. Something clicked in her head. "Get back, T'Pol!" she directed quietly.

The Vulcan complied, standing upright and taking a step backward.

"How do you feel about whack-a-doodle ideas?"

"Whack-a-doodle ideas?" T'Pol repeated. In her time among humans, she'd learned that they all had their own vernacular. Repeating phrases she didn't understand usually prompted an explanation. "More whack-a-doodle than zombies?" she couldn't help but ask.

"The dead body wandering around, the carnivore camped inside the hollowed-out cavity near the central nervous system…What if this alien is not _about_ to hatch, but has already hatched?" The two women exchanged looks. "It wiggled inside its lunch box and..." She pantomimed a lurching movement, similar to a monster movie Trip had once encouraged T'Pol to watch.

"The phase pistol stunned the newly born creature who was using the body as a conveyance?" T'Pol filled in, following the doctor's 'whack-a-doodle' idea.

"The transport through the cold of open space put it to sleep?" Andie suggested.

"This carnivore is just waiting to get warm enough to wake up?" T'Pol offered.

Both women took a very large step backward, looking suddenly apprehensive.

"I say we seal off the room and bring Reed in to have a look," Andie suggested helpfully.

"That is sensible," T'Pol agreed, backing toward the door. She turned around and moved toward the double doors, waving at Corporal Finn to step forward. Reed had insisted on a MACO outside the ward, in spite of Andie's protests.

Behind them, there was a high-pitched laugh, like a giggling hyena. Inside the body cavity, the oblong shape shifted The chest cavity trembled as the thing inside it stretched out. It elongated. It unwrapped itself.

Andie raised the scalpel she'd never put down, backing toward the door. T'Pol watched in fascination as the creature poked its head outside of the dead alien. Andie skipped backward and tripped over a work stool. She tumbled to the ground.

The Vulcan moved forward and pulled Andie up to her feet, working carefully to disentangle the woman from the chair. Her emotional control had taken a beating during her time in the Expanse and sometimes, like now, it slipped and base emotions like fear threatened to overwhelm her. She drew a deep breath and they both moved together to the doors of Sickbay.

All around them the creatures that Phlox kept for medical purposed began to scramble and whimper and scream in the sudden stillness. The noise was deafening, as Napoleon's caterwauling had been before.

"T'Pol?" Andie's voice was tense but quiet. The alien reached out to punch the code into the locked door.

The giggling continued. It grew louder. The was an audible thump.

"T'Pol?" Andie repeated. Her voice was growing tighter.

The noise in the room fell silent.

There was a slippery rustling behind them that T'Pol didn't want to think about. She pressed the last button and the door slid open. Andie lunged forward, colliding with the Vulcan and driving both women through the barrier before dropping them on the floor in a tangle of a legs and arms and surgical garb. T'Pol twisted her body around to take a look at the thing that found humanity to be so funny.

It had a round body and stubby limbs. Long fingers and toes were capped with razor sharp talons. Its whole face seemed to be made of teeth and its jaw opened impossibly wide. It didn't have a nose but its whole body shook with the effort of drawing air into its wide open mouth, creating that hideous laugh with its speedy respiration. Flaps extended at either side of its head as it stood taller and looked around the room.

It charged the open door that led to the corridor and the ship beyond. Corporal Finn raised his rifle to his shoulder and took in the sight of the squat little creature lunging on its frog-like legs. T'Pol and Andie began scrambling around, trying to get their feet under them without slipping on the other.

Corporal Finn fired as the carnivorous creature leaped into the air. Even at the middle setting, the pulse was strong enough to blow the alien creature into a spatter of color.

Both women had raised their arms to cover their faces, already protected inside the clear material of the surgical masks. Gore and bio-matter sprinkled down on them in a grotesque rain. Immediately the protective garments began to sizzle and steam. Andie and T'Pol wriggled around trying to remove the protective gear without spreading the acidic material onto their skin. In moments, the clothing rested in an unpleasant pile in front of them as they panted with their exertions.

"Are you injured?" Finn inquired, reluctant to put his rifle down.

Andie pulled her hand scanner out of her pocket and took some readings of the laundry.

"Chemical burns," she gasped. "Its blood is corrosive! It ate clean through our gowns!" She looked sickened. "I think we figured out what happened to the crew of the Xhardin."

"I think we have also ascertained what happened to the ship itself," T'Pol added, climbing to her feet.

"We just brought one aboard our own ship," Andie paled and peered at the gory matter on the floor.

"We brought two aboard," T'Pol corrected her. "You and Commander Tucker trapped one inside a medical case." She ignored the dour look the doctor sent her way. "I must inform Archer," the Commander said firmly. She strode down the corridor with purpose, glad to leave the distasteful scene behind.

"This is not good!" Andie muttered under her breath. "This is FUBAR."

She and Finn exchanged a look before turning their eyes back to the remains of the peaceful gardener lying in pieces on her medical table. It didn't take much to remember that several hundred of its kind had been dissolved into puddles. It didn't take much to be surprised that the perpetrator of such horrifying acts was barely larger than the two felines that roamed the ship.

It didn't take much to consider that the tiny creature that had just been dispensed had only recently hatched. It was an infant. There was no telling what it might grow up to be.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

By Lieuten Keen

Disclaimer: Enterprise doesn't belong to me. I just like to torment them now and again.

* * *

_Enterprise: Corridors leading from Sickbay_

_Shortly after the autopsy attack_

T'Pol was happy to get away from the alien creature. She didn't stop moving forward until she was in the turbo-lift and then she continued her progress to meet with the captain. It would have been faster to use the intercom on board the ship, but since the smaller creature was dead and the second creature locked up, it didn't seem to matter. Besides T'Pol wanted to look the captain in the eye when she told him that a creature slight enough to hide inside an alien body was terrible enough to wreak havoc upon his ship. If he had any reservations about Andie's competency as doctor, the Vulcan didn't want him to wave off her warnings as flawed.

Considering that the doctor had recently admitted to carrying a rather large secret, T'Pol would have thought that the young woman would prefer to keep the captain in her good graces, but it seemed the physician was as willing as ever to antagonize the leader of this expedition. It was frustrating and self-defeating, but T'Pol had long since ceased to be surprised at such behavior from her human companions, especially during times of crisis.

Reed and Hoshi watched the Vulcan sweep through the Bridge and into the captain's Ready Room with particular interest. Hoshi had a thing about bugs and bug-like creatures ever since a Reptilian had implanted one in her head, while Reed was instantly alerted to possible danger by the extremely sober look in the Vulcan's' eye; so different from her usual sober expression. They exchanged significant glances when the first officer entered the inner sanctum without waiting for an invitation and prepared for bad news.

T'Pol faced the captain and laid out the problem in as few words as possible

"These things are hazardous?" Archer questioned again, trying to wrap his mind around the concept. "They could fit into a small box!" he protested as if size had anything to do with danger.

"I recommend an immediate upgrade to their threat level," T'Pol assured him, clasping her hands behind her back in an attempt to cease restlessly rubbing them together. She'd never had such a twitch before. She wondered if it was a new symptom of her Pa'nar Syndrome or her addiction to Trellium-D or perhaps an incomplete session in her meditations. Butterflies flittered in her stomach.

Archer punched the button on the comm. "Mr. Reed to the Ready Room!" The ensuing door chime occurred so quickly, Archer wondered if Reed had broken a record for speed.

"Send a security team to Sickbay, and place all the artifacts we collected from the Xhardin under guard as well." Archer looked his security officer in the eye. "Those small creatures may be responsible for the destruction on the alien ship."

"Yes, sir. Where's Dr. Andie?" Reed inquired. At the surprised looks of his senior officers, he added, "She has a knack for getting into trouble. I want to make certain she's covered as far as security procedures go."

"I believe she is still in Sickbay," T'Pol answered.

Reed nodded and moved out the door, pulling a communicator from his pocket and sending teams to two different science labs and three men to the medical ward.

* * *

_Enterprise: Outside Sickbay_

_Same time_

As soon as T'Pol disappeared around the corner Andie drew a deep breath and looked at Corporal Finn. His sandy colored hair was thinning on top, but you couldn't tell at the moment; he'd smoothed it back against his scalp with successive swipes of his nervous, sweaty hand until it was a single stripe of color on his nearly bald pate. "We have to go back in there," she stated baldly. "That thing still work or do you just carry it to look pretty?" She gestured at the weapon in his hand with a tilt of her head. Her tough talk did a serviceable job of hiding her own worry.

"I'm ready, Doctor," he agreed, swallowing hard. When she turned her back to punch in the code on the door, he wiped his hand on the leg of his trousers and reasserted his grip on the rifle. It wouldn't do for him to show signs of weakness in front of the petite female who didn't seem too concerned over what they had just witnessed.

"Here we go!" She announced. The doors slid open. They carefully stepped around the pile of bio-matter still residing in the hall and moved into the room.

Finn took the lead, slipping inside first and spinning right and left to check for enemies. He even tilted his head up to look at the ceiling. Andie stepped inside when he'd cleared the door and pressed the button to lock them in, ignoring his audible gulp.

"We're heading back to the body, Corporal," Andie informed him. In spite of his receding hairline, he was probably in his early twenties and a little newer to an alien situation than some of the other MACO's. This was his first tour of duty on a starship. She kept her tone matter-of-fact so he wouldn't worry. He switched direction and led the way to the autopsy bed, rifle tucked against his shoulder. At least he hid his fear well enough, she thought approvingly.

"The inside of the body had hollowed cavities inside the arms and legs," Andie spoke out loud to fill the eerie stillness since Phlox's fauna had resumed their silence. "I believe something stretched out inside and used the arms and legs of the Xhardin to move through the ship. That thing you shot isn't big enough to fit the hollows that were made."

"You think there's another one in there? A bigger one?" Finn repeated.

Andie stood in front of the drawer she'd just opened. "Yup," she agreed easily, picking up a fresh scalpel, then putting it down and picking up another with a longer, sharper blade. "That body went from Shuttle Pod to Decon to the imaging chamber; if something had escaped during any of those transfers, we'd have seen the hole it created in the body bag." _It has acidic blood that eats through metal_, her inner voice whispered. She replaced the metal tool and picked up a synthetic one, equally long and sharp.

Both crewmen crept up to the body, which remained flat and lifeless. Finn gulped but did not flinch at the dried up corpse lying splayed open. Andie peered at the body from behind the shoulder of the combat soldier. When the body remained lifeless, she stepped forward and waved a scanner over the top of it, but all the readings indicated that there was no life in the husk.

"I think we should get it into the imaging chamber," she said steadily. "Just to be sure it's not hibernating or dormant or something." She reached out to press the button to open the round portal.

It was a good thing that Finn was so unnerved out by the quiet room that he had never lowered his weapon. It was a very good thing indeed.

* * *

_Enterprise: Outside Science Station B-7_

_Less than an hour later_

Captain Archer, Commander T'Pol and Lieutenant Reed converged in the corridor just outside the turbo-lift. The call for extra security had sounded across the comm. just a few moments after Reed left the Bridge and all three senior officers headed for the problem area. Archer led the trio at a jog around the corner to the science lab where the medical kit containing the attacking creature had been taken once it was removed from the shuttle pod. A MACO had been sent to look after it, but T'Pol had also sent in a pair of scientists to investigate it before the autopsy had taken a turn for the worse. Something had occurred inside not long ago.

"The door's locked!" The captain huffed when the button didn't react to his imperative finger. Archer entered his command code into the keypad and door slid open. He didn't know whether or not to be relieved. They found both Ensigns Nichols and Mandara huddled on top of a counter peering fearfully over the edge. Corporal Riley moved about the room with his weapon held at the ready.

"What happened?" Archer barked. Reed and T'Pol crowded around him and the door slid closed; Reed had already pulled his sidearm from its holster.

"It flew!" Mandara panicked. "It flew right at his head, and if he hadn't stumbled when it jumped, it would have eaten his face off!" Her dark eyes were wide in her unnaturally pale face.

"It cannot fly!" Nichols countered petulantly. "It can't eat my face off! It doesn't have teeth! It barely had legs! I'm surprised it could even climb...!" Truth be told, there was something disturbing about the thing they'd found. He just couldn't explain his feeling of unease, and Mandara's complete excitability was making him nervous, especially in front of both the captain and the alien first officer.

"I repeat...What happened?" Archer barked louder.

"We were attempting to remove the creature from the medical case and place it inside a terrarium for observation," Nichols supplied when Mandara could only squeak. "When we opened the case, something lurched out."

"It flew!" she squealed.

"The case tipped over," Nichols corrected with a tired look at the female for the interruption. "We got it righted, but the creature went missing. It's in here somewhere. We just can't find it." He had the grace to look chagrined as he climbed down off the table to help Reed and T'Pol, who joined Riley to search under tables and chairs.

"Corporal Riley, please escort Ensign Mandara to her quarters," T'Pol interjected softly. She had a feeling the female would not be helpful in this search. The MACO moved to comply, but the tactical officer stopped him.

"We shouldn't open the doors until we find the thing," Reed cautioned. "It was...quite assertive...on the alien vessel." He cast a quick look at Mandara when she moaned at his words. She didn't move from her aerial vantage point.

Archer was happy to interrupt. He noticed an egg-shaped object rolling along the floorboards. Using a pair of tongs, he picked it up. "Is this what you're looking for?" he asked. Suddenly it jerked. It was instinct that caused him to steady the object with his bare hand rather than let its fragile surface hit the floor. It was soft yet pliable, like holding a hard-boiled egg in his hand but it was warmer than he expected and it shivered in his hand. The dark object made his stomach turn.

Nichols rose and opened the lid of the observation tank. Archer relinquished the alien substance with relief. He also took the towel offered by Reed and wiped his hands, depositing the cloth in the hazardous waste bin near the door. "See?" Nichols demanded in triumph to his science partner. "It doesn't have legs or wings!"

"I'm telling you it flew at his head!" Mandara repeated shakily. She climbed down off the table, shaking like a leaf. This time she looked darkly at the egg-like thing that continued quivering inside the case as she scooted directly behind the rugged MACO with the large weapon.

"Did you have a chance to perform any tests on it?" Archer asked. His hand itched and he rubbed it absently, still revolted by the soft, warm feeling from the alien object.

"We didn't have a chance to do an in-depth analysis. As soon as we opened the case it got away," Mandara explained in a shaky voice.

"This is the creature that you removed from the case?" Reed demanded, looking at the large egg shaking back and forth. "This is the _only_ creature you removed from the case?"

"What's the problem, Malcolm?" Archer asked. His hand tingled queerly.

"This is not the creature that I shot at, nor is it the creature that Dr. Andie sealed inside the medical case." Reed began peering around, into corners and under furniture.

"Are you sure?" Archer demanded. He wished he hadn't thrown away that towel. He'd wrap it around his hand like a bandage.

"The thing we picked up had arms and legs...and teeth." He added the last under his breath, darting a quick look at Ensign Mandara when he said it.

"Oh!" she moaned, but she said nothing further. 'Things with teeth' were not her forte.

"Perhaps it reproduced," T'Pol suggested in a tone much calmer than she felt.

"Sir?" Reed held up the medical case for Archer's inspection. There was a hole in the bottom of the case, just larger than the captain's fist. If it could get out of a hole that small, there was no telling where it might be hiding in this room.

Speaking of fists, Archer's hand was really beginning to itch. He scratched more ferociously, drawing attention from both Reed and T'Pol. Noticing their pointed stares he held up his left hand. Already small red bumps were forming on the surface of his skin as though he'd been attacked by many mosquitoes.

"That's the hand that touched the egg," Reed noted, raising his head from his inspection of the medical case.

"I will accompany you to Sickbay," T'Pol stated firmly. "Do not touch anything else on the way." She reached out an arm to escort the captain and Reed reached around them and pressed the button to open the door to allow their exit.

Reed whispered as the captain brushed near him. "If the ensigns only found the egg, where's the mother?"

"Find it!" Archer commanded, trying hard not to touch his hand.

As the door remained open, the egg thumped against the side of the viewing cage.

"Make sure that lid is very secure," Archer directed before slowly moving out of the room and heading for Sickbay.

It was not turning out to be a very good day after all.

* * *

_Enterprise: Sickbay_

_Not long after_

Archer and T'Pol hurried through the corridors to Sickbay. They found Andie wrapping Ensign Pierce's finger in a bandage and lecturing gently. "The cream should soothe the burn. Don't get your bandage wet. Don't touch anything strange. Come back if you feel...icky." The physician looked up to see the senior officers enter her room, one of whom was holding his arm at an odd angle. She applied a hypo to the young man's neck then waved him away.

"He got chemical burns while repairing the shuttle pod, but he'll be fine," Andie answered before the captain asked.

"I'm injured, sir!" Pierce smiled, holding up one bandaged index finger.

"Swell!" muttered Archer, holding up his whole blistered hand and watching Pierce's face fall. Andie waved the captain to a bio-bed as the young man went back to work. "Is there chance of contamination?" Jon asked.

"It's not a virus," Andie spoke quietly as she changed gloves and began tending to Archer's reddened skin. "It's just a dermal irritation as a result of contact with a dangerous chemical." She repeated what Pierce had told her about his injury.

"It came from the inside of the docking clamp?" Archer demanded. "One of these things may have come aboard the Shuttle. T'Pol?" He barely got her name out before his capable first officer was speaking into the comm panel on the wall, directing a security team to check out the shuttle bay and instructing the engineering team to evacuate.

Andie finished securing the bandage around his palm and pressed a hypo into Jon's neck. His relief was short-lived. "There's more," Andie added soberly.

"More?" T'Pol rejoined the pair in the alcove.

"The creature that jumped at T'Pol and I was an infant," she announced quietly. A crewman was cleaning the mess in the corridor but there wasn't anyone else near enough to hear them, yet they spoke in hushed tones. "There was a mature creature hiding in the imaging chamber. I believe it crawled out of the body during the initial scans. Finn shot it and we put it in the Decon Chamber."

"You didn't think to mention that before?" Archer raised his voice.

One eyebrow arched perfectly over her wide eyes. "Before I _tended your injury_? The captain's health is my highest priority. No, I didn't think to mention the secured creature before I treated your wound," Andie refuted stubbornly. "Now that you're...fit...for duty, we should have a look." She led the way as Archer glowered at her back.

A few minutes later they peered inside the small room. For a long moment not a one of them could form words.

"It's only been a half hour," Andie protested weakly. "There was one creature. It was hiding in the imaging chamber. Finn and I put it in Decon! It's been there for _half an hour_!"

T'Pol peered inside. "There are six creatures here," she told the doctor.

"I dumped a container of protein paste on the floor to keep it busy! They were only here a half hour!" Her voice was rising with the strain.

"Did you activate the monitoring system?" the Vulcan inquired. Andie nodded and T'Pol checked the readings on the computer panel and called up the viewing monitors. She adjusted her position to allow the captain and the doctor to peer at the images that had been captured.

"Ew!" That was the resounding group reaction to the excerpt on screen, although T'Pol did not state her disgust out loud.

"I see they reproduce asexually," T'Pol stated calmly. She didn't feel calm. Her hands were trembling. Phlox would have been much more interested in the scientific fact. At this moment, she felt his absence keenly. He could be counted on for an even temperament and soothing words.

"It must be born pregnant!" Andie widened her eyes. "With sufficient nutritional elements, it vomits up an egg sack. As soon as the sack dries, it cracks open and there's another carnivore." She turned her head to look at T'Pol. "One becomes two. Two becomes four. Four becomes..." Andie turned around. "Each creature can replicate itself in ten minutes!"

"Ten minutes?" Archer demanded. He couldn't prop his hands on his hips because the bandage got in the way.

"There are six creatures in Decon," T'Pol stated again. "There should be eight."

"They ran out of protein paste," Andie suggested. The rate of replication was astounding.

"So we've got six now?" Archer demanded. "Why didn't you call security?"

"I was a little busy! The creature was secured! And unconscious! And the only one in there at the time!" she protested. "And then Pierce showed up and gave me his finger!"

"Where are the MACO's?" Archer barked at T'Pol. He didn't see the team that Reed had sent. Andie's explained in a frustrated tone that she'd sent them to cover the Launch Bay when Pierce and Cooper had arrived.

"There is an alternative," T'Pol said quietly. She pressed a few buttons on the wall and the temperature dropped dramatically inside the secure chamber. The six creatures huddled together for warmth, and wrapped their long limbs around their bodies. Their head flaps tucked against the sides of their craniums until they looked very similar to a half dozen eggs resting in the center of the decontamination chamber.

"They're susceptible to cold?" the captain inquired.

"Sort of," Andie answered, checking the readings. "I think they're hibernating. As soon as the temperature rises, they'll be just fine..."

"Drop the temperature on the ship!" Archer commanded his first officer. "And for the love of God, stop feeding them!"

"The temperature required to induce a hibernating state is below the safety limits for humans," T'Pol warned him.

"Drop the temperature in Science Lab B-7 immediately," Archer amended. "One of those creatures reproduced then went AWOL from that location," he explained curtly to Andie.

As if on cue Lieutenant Reed hurried around the corner, stopping shortly when he recognized the crew gathering in the unaccustomed position outside the Decon Chamber. He drew a deep breath and delivered the bad news. "Sorry, sir, it looks like the adult creature got away!" he apologized. "There was a hole in the ventilation screen in the room. It's possible that it disappeared there during the confusion. I sent Corporal Riley into the maintenance tubes after it. And I released Ensign Mandara to her quarters. She wasn't handling the news very well. Ensign Nichols is bringing the terrarium with the infant to Sickbay as we speak."

Captain Archer didn't need to turn his head from his perusal of the six oval shapes in Decon to know the lieutenant was standing at crisp attention, awaiting the punishment he felt he deserved due to what Reed would probably write up in his report as his shoddy security protocols and ill-trained officers, but he did anyway. Studying Reed, Archer thought it more likely that Reed would write the report so he took all the blame for his crewmen, and even for the fault of the failed ventilation screen. "We think they're looking for sustenance. Send more security officers to all locations that contain edible items," was all he said.

"We should secure the Galley and Mess Hall," T'Pol clarified. "They may be attracted to the smell of sustenance there."

"Also the greenhouse and the hydroponics bay," Andie threw in a couple more. "That doesn't account for house plants in crew quarters or galley take-out," she said to the science officer.

"Phlox's fauna?" T'Pol inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm already working on that," Andie promised.

Down the hall the double doors slid open. "Sickbay is secured, Doctor," Finn joined the contingent in the hallway. He bore a bandage on his cheekbone. "This data came in for Commander T'Pol," he added, passing over a data card to the science officer, after saluting the senior officers. He handed back the medical scanner to the doctor. "I've accounted for all of the medical animals. There's nothing in there that shouldn't be."

"Thank you," Andie muttered absently, staring at the little band of alien life on the other side of the transparency. Her brows were pulled together in a tight knot on her forehead, indicating that she was thinking very hard about something.

"Ensign Sato said that whatever happened to the _Xhardin_ vessel happened very quickly," T'Pol murmured softly. She didn't have to say more to indicate to the others that she thought this is what those other aliens had gone through, shortly before they became extinct.

"We are not losing control of this ship!" Archer stated very clearly for the benefit of the four other people standing around in the corridor. "We are going to apprehend these creatures and we are going to remove them from our vessel! That's an order!" he declared stridently.

"They're just stringing us along." The doctor's voice was soft and fragile, an unusual and unwelcome tone in the heat of the moment.

"What are you talking about?" Archer demanded. He made a gesture at the MACO standing around agog, and Finn turned and headed back into Sickbay.

"They were using the humanoid body like a...thingie!" Andie wiggled her fingers around as her voice climbed another octave.

"Like an itch?" Trip suggested in confusion, striding into view. He'd just got the lab findings back and had come to report about the fluid on the docking clamp of the shuttle pod. The ship's computer had indicated that the senior officers were gathering here.

Andie looked exasperated, wiggling her digits frantically as though that would clarify the meaning. "A...thingie!"

"A Marionette?" Reed suggested.

"Yes!" She snapped her fingers in triumph. "Puppets!"

"How'd you get 'puppets' outta this?" Trip asked Reed, wiggling his fingers around erratically.

"I'm very good at decoding messages by the enemy," Malcolm stated smugly. The words were no sooner out of his mouth before he shot an apologetic look at the captain for his glib attitude. It was the doctor who called them to the carpet for his lapse though.

Andie rolled her eyes. "This is no time for funny business! Can we _please_ pay attention to the imminent extraterrestrial invasion by carnivorous alien puppets?"

"Invasion?" Reed repeated, instantly more interested. "I thought there were only two?"

"Carnivorous alien puppets?" Trip inquired with one eyebrow lifted high.

"There are six…no, eight creatures, including the ones you found in the science lab," Archer informed Malcolm, waving a hand at the Decon window. Reed stepped forward to take a peek.

"They eat and they breed," Andie hissed. "One of them utilized the existing nerve endings and muscle groups in the Xhardin humanoid to emulate the limbs and that's what stumbled toward us!" Her tone was growing increasing shrill.

"Actually that would make it a puppeteer, not a puppet," Reed supplied absently. In spite of his mounting concern about the situation, he was immensely satisfied at the frustrated scowl the doctor sent his way.

The engineer broke in before World War IV broke out. "If there was goo on the inside of the docking clamp, then it's possible there's another alien running around in the shuttle bay." When Archer's head whirled toward Trip the engineer hastily added, "We didn't see anythin' come out of the shuttle, but it's possible it was hidin' in there."

"They just feed and breed! There's no reasoning with that!" Andie screeched nervously.

"Is there any possibility that this...carnivorous alien puppet... was just making contact?" Archer suggested. "I don't want to throw around words like 'invasion' without being certain. It didn't actually cause you physical harm?" He knew he was grasping at straws, but he needed to grasp anyway. Time was sliding away as they talked here in front of the Decon Chamber, but if they didn't know what they were up against they couldn't make an accurate defense.

"The carnivorous alien puppet was not trying to make peaceful contact," T'Pol assured him.

"We need a shorter name than 'carnivorous alien puppet'," Andie groused, in spite of the fact that she had coined the phrase. "These _space frogs_..."

"Space frogs?" Trip repeated dubiously.

"We found them in space and they jump like frogs," Andie filled in impatiently. "The _space frogs_ burrowed inside the Xhardin, drank their innards, and reproduced! They exterminated the entire crew! They are lethal and must be stopped! I suggest we remove them from _Enterprise_ as soon as possible!"

"How do you suggest we do that?" Archer asked. "You want us to contaminate the ship by shooting all of them? You said their blood contains an acidic compound that will eat through metal."

"What?" Reed gasped. "Do we have proof that their blood can eat through metal?" he inquired.

T'Pol held up the data pad she'd just received from Corporal Finn in her hand. "The results from the science lab indicate the sample taken from the..." she looked sideways at Dr. Andie, "…puddle of goo...on the _Xhardin_ vessel contains acid, among other things." A few keys were tapped and she looked at the new page on her data pad. "The biologic matter was compromised by an acidic compound mixed with both salivary chromosomal strands and hemoglobinal matter, but it seems to come from the same source."

Archer's head jerked around. "Wait! They _spit_ acid too?"

"It is premature to assume they spit. The acidic compound may merely begin the digestive process once the animal begins to eat. The saliva present in the sample may be the result of the intensive feeding process that occurred on the alien vessel." T'Pol answered quietly. "The...carnivorous alien puppets...are not tidy eaters." Her tone indicated that might be the more horrific attribute.

Trip raised a hand in disbelief. "Wait a minnit! It's chewin' on my ship?"

Reed objected. "We'll need to take extra precautions if bodily fluids can cause harm. Permission to set the phase weapons on kill, sir?" he looked to Archer. "If the...space frogs...are intent on replicating their methods on our ship, it would be best if we caught them earlier rather than later." Reed hated to use the phrase the doctor had conjured, since it was ridiculous and sounded like one of the movies that Travis and Trip liked to watch, but 'carnivorous alien puppeteer' was definitely too long. "I'll arrange for roving teams to begin a thorough search immediately."

"Swell," Andie muttered. "You're just itching to shoot somebody, aren't you?"

"What other choice do we have?" Reed countered. They seemed to be replicating madly and confining them seemed to be a losing option. Andie had it right a moment ago when she suggested that they be removed from the ship as soon as possible. But if she objected to wiping out a threat with extreme prejudice, how did she think they were going to go away? He readjusted his grip on his weapon although it remained in his holster. "How do you recommend we remove these creatures, Doctor, if you are squeamish about killing them?"

"I'd like to point out that we are standing right next to one State of the Art Airlock Portal," Andie pointed out with a flourish. "Blow them into space. They hibernate at low temperatures. In fact, if we could pack the whole crew into Sickbay, we could open all the outer hatches and ventilate the ship. We could put them all to sleep at once."

Reed was already shaking his head. "That would not alleviate the threat; it would only leave them for the next ship that passes through this system."

The mere mention of the airlock entry brought Archer an uncomfortable moment. During the mission in the Expanse he'd thrown an intruder in there and threatened to ventilate him if he didn't cooperate. There hadn't been time then to worry about other considerations or diplomacy, but there was time now. Archer didn't want to keep making the same mistakes he made during a time of war, although he couldn't be convinced that threatening the pirate had been a mistake; he'd gotten what he wanted. He just found that he didn't want to remain the person that he had become then. He didn't want to become comfortable with the airlock entry. Inwardly he sighed; he'd never make any decisions if he kept second guessing himself and that seemed to be his habit more often of late.

"Wait a minute!" Archer held up his hands. "They haven't done anything to us. The Xhardin may have unwillingly antagonized the things and the creatures may be reacting to a perceived threat. I don't think we can just go around shooting them!" He looked at Malcolm. "I want the MACOs patrolling the ship. Set your weapons on stun and bring all the creatures here. Don't touch them without protection and don't get their fluids on you or your team. We'll secure them in Decon."

"Aye, sir!" Malcolm nodded before hurrying off. Securing them didn't sound nearly as safe as blowing them out the airlock, but his captain had spoken.

Andie pursed her lips at this command, but at least she did so silently.

Handing out assignments, Archer looked at the first officer. "T'Pol, find out how Hoshi's doing on the translation of the data rods we brought back. Perhaps we can find out what set these creatures off. Lower the temperature on the ship; maybe we can slow them down. Trip, put together a team to secure all the ventilation shafts and crawlspaces. Let's keep these things in a small confined space." A pair of 'ayes' preceded their exit from the corridor.

Jon drew a deep breath as though to fortify himself for an upcoming battle and looked at the doctor who was being unnaturally quiet now that she'd articulated all her worries. "Andie, I want a detailed analysis of those creatures in Decon."

She nodded. "Will Finn be remaining with me, or should I get a phase pistol from the armory?"

"Has Malcolm cleared you to carry a sidearm?" he inquired, arching one eyebrow.

Andie flushed at the same time she grinned. "He gave me one for the mission to the _Xhardin_," she pointed out.

"There was less likelihood that you would shoot him again over there."

"I didn't shoot him the first time...on purpose," she added with exasperation. This wasn't the time to relive that fiasco and with effort she tried a different tactic. "This could go very badly very quickly." It was clear she wasn't talking about her alleged inability to refrain from shooting Malcolm.

"And yet I'm giving you a phase pistol anyway," Archer joked, ignoring the warning tone in her voice. Her face held no trace of humor. She didn't really seem to be sulking either; just quietly watchful. He remembered Emory saying she had been a serious child and wondered what her personality would have become if her life had been different. "Don't shoot anyone on accident," he cautioned as he turned away.

"Archer?"

_At least that was more respectful than Jon_, he thought as he turned around. She stood there with her mouth open as though there was something she wanted to say, but no words came. He turned to leave again but stopped when she called his name once more.

"What happens if this doesn't work?" she asked.

"It'll work," he promised with an easy smile.

"Don't you have a plan B?" she queried. "You're not flying by the seat of your pants, are you, Jon?"

Instead of answering her, he just forced his face into a reassuring smile. "We've got this under control, Doctor."

This time she allowed him to leave, but the contemplative expression remained on her face. When she returned to Sickbay, she didn't have time for reflection. Two more crewmen from the area near the shuttle bay had acquired a need for burn treatments.

* * *

_Enterprise: Bridge_

_Late afternoon_

Things just kept getting worse.

Archer waited in his Ready Room with one eye on the other ship through the porthole. The reports just kept coming in. Chef kept a small herb garden in his quarters. When he went to take a nap before dinner, he discovered a space frog consuming his fresh mint and dill plants. It had even chewed on Chef's treasured book of secret family recipes, apparently enjoying the flour and egg that had dotted many of the pages. It was hard to tell whether or not the squeamish cook was more devastated by the life-threatening attack or the damage to the book. Crewman Moreno had discovered one in the corner of a turbo-lift after he stepped inside and had a nasty bite on his leg to show for his efforts. He had to be carried to Sickbay. The crewmen working in the Laundry at this hour complained of a pile of towels that giggled at them, and had called in to report two creatures. By the time the marines arrived there were four creatures and half a dozen fewer bath towels. And just to make matters worse, systems were hiccupping all over the ship. The lights in the Ready Room, for example, started flickering as though there was an interruption in the power flow, and Engineering said they would need to remain at impulse in order to the run the Level Three diagnostic on the EPS grid, which would render them unable to flee if this situation continued to spin out of control. Trip looked at his feet when he suggested that the tiny creatures might be inside the walls chewing on power conduits and whatnot. Security was dispatched.

Truthfully he was running out of options. Besides Crewman Moreno, the list of people reporting to Sickbay for minor chemical burns had grown by leaps and bounds. The creatures were proving elusive and hard to trap, and the drop in temperature didn't seem to be slowing them down. Jon flexed his fingers again, fighting to keep feeling in his hands. Although everyone on board was wearing jackets and caps, the temperature on the ship was becoming more than uncomfortable. Pretty soon his people would not be able to function at all. There were just too many people on board to worry about protecting while searching for those things. Archer ground his teeth silently. They may have to change tactics.

"_Bridge to Captain Archer!"_

It was Hoshi's voice, although not the soft sound she normally had. This tone was tight as though spoken through teeth clenched tightly to keep from chattering. She was not doing well with the extreme temperatures and had donned a pink knit scarf in addition to mittens.

"Archer here!" he replied.

"_Captain, you may want to see this. The Xhardin is powering up."_

"The dead alien vessel is powering up?" No matter how that might make his head spin, it still wasn't the strangest thing that had happened all day.

"_Yes, sir. Travis is reading a change in heading."_

He couldn't help glancing out his view port at the small ship in the distance. They were too far away to get a good look so he stood and entered the Bridge, drawing his shoulders up as he went.

"What's the new heading, Travis?" Archer inquired.

"Sir, it's coming this way," Mayweather responded. "The flight path is erratic."

"Toward us? What about life signs? I mean Xhardinian life signs?" _Could someone have survived?_

"I can't tell at this distance, sir," the navigator replied. "Sir, if I had to guess, I'd say the space frogs may have got lucky when they started the engine. They may not know how to maneuver it."

"We're not going to sit here and play a game of Blind Chicken, Travis. Begin evasive maneuvers!" He tapped a button on his console. "Reed to the Bridge!"

The navigator complied, but the _Xhardin's_ rounded bow curved sloppily through the stars and continued toward them. Small asteroid chunks bounced off the hull as it made its course correction. _Was that luck or was that skill?_ Already wishing he'd just let Malcolm shoot holes in each and every one of the things, Archer stood on the bridge of his vessel and watched inevitability come.

Reed came breathlessly through the turbo-lift doors. "We've got them confined to the aft section of C Deck, away from the Mess Hall and..."

"Ready the phase cannons, Malcolm," The captain interrupted.

Reed clamped his lips shut and took the seat which Higgins willingly relinquished, pressing buttons almost before he sat down.

"Travis, bring us closer to the medieval planet. Maybe we can lose the _Xhardin_ in the atmosphere."

"Are you planning to destroy the vessel?" T'Pol had just joined them on the Bridge.

It was more than Archer wanted to think about at the moment. But he had been aboard that dead ship. There was nobody left alive on that thing. "Better them than us!"

The dead ship seemed to be coming about. Retro rockets seemed to fire uneasily and guide the ship around in a circle to hone in on _Enterprise_. Jon had no intention of letting alien space frogs take his ship. "Blow that ship out of the sky! No more of those things are coming on board!" They couldn't. If any more arrived, the humans would be outnumbered, and they were already losing the battle. Marines were guiding people to the medical ward, the most heavily reinforced rooms on board, but many crewmen were cornered behind doors and bulkheads scattered around the ship. Security told him that the bulkheads wouldn't keep those things out forever.

"Weapons online… Targeting sensors are locked!" Reed was more than happy to report. He was even less enthusiastic about surrendering this ship to space parasites than Archer was, if that was possible. He focused the main phase cannons and prepared to fire directly at the dead ship that had suddenly come to life.

"Fire!" Archer commanded when the rounded alien vessel drunkenly swooped in their direction again. He could hear the soft click of computer keys when Reed entered the command, and couldn't help but compare the sensation to ending a life through hand to hand combat. Fighting from the bridge was so different from standing in the corridor while alien life shot hand held weapons at his crew.

The pulse from the phase cannon connected with the tip of the Xhardin vessel and the front of the dead ship exploded outward. Orange fire reached out through space to expire quickly in the oxygen free atmosphere. Reed brought extra power to the main deflector as he polarized the hull plating. Bits of debris were jettisoned through space to patter against _Enterprise'_s hull without serious damage.

Hoshi put the piece back in her ear and frowned. "It sounds like rain out there," she wondered curiously.

T'Pol looked up at the captain from her science station. "I'm picking up life forms on the outer hull, Captain."

"Life forms?" he growled. There appeared to be something malevolent in that rain that Hoshi heard. Space frogs were raining down upon them. Archer clenched his jaw in frustration.

"I believe they were scattered over the hull with the explosion. They are attracted to heat and are beginning to accumulate near our engines and other exhaust ports," she replied calmly.

"How many?" he asked with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

She peered at her readouts and she faced him again. "It is difficult to pin down an accurate count, but it is a significant amount."

"We seem to have woken them up!" Reed announced tersely. He was reading a message from the armory that said Crewman Ross was detecting a problem with the main phase cannons. The cannon seemed to be blocked by some of the debris jettisoned from the dead ship and would not swivel. Reed immediately contacted the armory and told the crew there to defend themselves by whatever means necessary.

"Their impulse engines don't seem to be affected by the blast," Mayweather pointed out. The dead ship was slipping through the stars toward the NX-01 in spite of the gaping hole in front. "The ship's still heading this way!"

"Malcolm!" the captain warned. "Fire when ready, Lieutenant!" Archer barked.

Something blew up all right, but it wasn't outside the vessel because the blast knocked Archer sideways. He'd been standing beside his chair and was thrown against it hard enough to make him think of the significant bruise he'd have tomorrow. "Damage report!"

"Port airlock just lost pressure!" T'Pol announced. "I'm reading many life signs in the corridor!"

They were in the ship. They were coming in.

"Drop the emergency bulkheads, T'Pol! Maybe that will slow them down!" The captain looked at the armory officer and tried not to rub the sharp flare in his hipbone. "Fire again, Malcolm!"

"Yes, sir!" Reed answered, tapping the keys in front of him. He hit the button to fire the starboard phase cannon and was surprised when nothing happened. Fuming, he looked at his panel and transferred the command to the port side cannon with better luck. "Firing, sir!" Malcolm pressed the button. He watched the torpedo burn its way through the blackened stars. It passed through the complicated passage of asteroids and planted itself directly into the center of the _Xhardin_. The missile detonated and the view screen went white with the flare. The _Xhardin_ was no more. The remains of the dead ship exploded around them as the _Enterprise_ slid through the detritus. Bits and pieces of it were spread throughout the sky.

"Get security to the Port airlock!" Archer barked, watching the fiery debris wink out of the sky. He heard Malcolm barking orders to another team of MACO's but something else drew his attention.

"Brace for impact!" T'Pol called out.

A large chunk of the alien ship collided with _Enterprise's_ bow and tumbled across the hull directly above their heads. Raising his head, Archer could see the sharp edge of the metal plate as it passed across the transparent screen at the topmost section of the ship. He had a direct view of the sharp metal landing heavily on the edge of the viewing window, an inspection made easier when the impact overrode the inertial dampeners and tossed him to the floor in an ungainly heap.

From his position on the ground he could hear shouts and smell smoke, but the thing that worried him most was the smallest sound in the room. It was the sound of a small hiss. The Bridge of the _Enterprise_ had a skylight. Shaped in a dome, it allowed a view of the passing stars. A leak appeared in the seal around the overhead viewing window. The bridge was losing pressure.

"Everybody out!" Archer choked out through the heavy smoke that was quickly filling the room.

T'Pol grabbed the communications officer when Hoshi stumbled to her feet. The science staff at the back of the room didn't hesitate; they obeyed the order. There were quiet cries of panic as the button to open the doors refused to work. A red light appeared on T'Pol's screen, indicating the pressure leak. Security protocols had sealed them inside.

Jon sat upright, feeling a little light-headed but pushing away Mayweather's offers of assistance. "Travis! Move out! That's an order!" Archer shouted. Above him the hiss grew more pronounced. The seal was disintegrating. In seconds the dome would lose its pressure seal and the oxygen in the room would be sucked out into space, not to mention anyone left inside. Stumbling to his feet, Archer grabbed Mayweather's arm and directed the young man to the doors at the back of the room. He could feel the air slipping away. It lifted the hair on the back of his sweaty neck. It was going to be close.

The smoke that was drifting into the room was moving upward toward the leak outside. Reed followed the wispy strings as they disappeared into the ceiling, understanding the problem. He pulled a small panel from his work station, ripping it right off the hinges. With a quick leap, he stood on the captain's chair, balancing precariously on the arms as he pulled his phase pistol.

They needed a stronger pressure leak to pull the panel up to the ceiling. "Hold on to something!" With careful aim in the thicker air, he fired once at the edge of seal. The instant gush of air rushing past him told him he had hit the target. He released the panel he held and it was sucked up with the lighter materials in the room to lodge against the small window, temporarily stabilizing the pressure leak.

One of the crew standing at the door hit the button and a brief gasp of atmosphere preceded their tumble into the hallway outside.

"Get out!" Reed commanded with a leap as he landed on the floor and helped Travis pull the captain to his feet. They dragged him off the bridge and sealed the door behind them. It didn't matter if the pressure destabilized on the bridge now; they were safe for the moment in the corridor.

T'Pol was already leading the way to the maintenance shaft, pulling off the access panel and indicating that the crewmen should climb down the ladder. Reed helped Hoshi into the tube as the Vulcan turned to check the wounds of her commanding officer. There was a thin line of blood over one eye, but it appeared to be a superficial injury. "I believe you will continue to live," she informed Archer.

"It'll take more than a knock on the head," he muttered, waving her assistance away. Travis disappeared into the access shaft as Archer hit the comm button next to the turbo-lift. "Archer to Engineering. We've lost the Bridge, Trip."

"Trip to Archer." The ship rocked beneath his feet as the reply came back weak and full of static. "We're having…trouble with Enginee…lasma leak and I'm….evacuating." The chief engineer's voice got cut off as the signal went dead.

"Trip? Trip!" Archer hit the wall panel in frustration. "How the hell did those things get in?"

"Sir, I'm not certain we can fight them off at this time," Malcolm announced. There were only three people left on this deck and Reed felt safe enough to advocate something drastic.

"What are you suggesting, Lieutenant?"

"Perhaps we should find a way to save the lives that we can." Malcolm's gray eyes looked deep into Archer's face. "Get as many crewmen off the ship as possible, and attack them in smaller groups."

"Evacuate?" The thought was unthinkable. Even when the Xindi had blown the _Enterprise_ to pieces, they still had not abandoned the ship. There had to be other alternatives. "I think we can make a stand here, Malcolm. We just need to re-initiate command functions."

"Main computer access was transferred to the secondary systems in the command center on E Deck," T'Pol told the captain.

Archer sighed heavily. "I guess we're heading for the Command Center," he agreed. He led the few who remained down the access ladder and into the heart of the ship.


	4. Chapter 4

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter Four

* * *

_Enterprise: B Deck:_

Jon could feel their eyes watching him as he clambered out of the narrow tube and into the corridor. All those worried eyes were trained on him, waiting to take their cues from the captain. _"What's your Plan B, Jon?"_ The doctor's question echoed inside his head. He tried to figure out how a pile of biological residue could conspire to outwit Starfleet's best and brightest without giving away any of his frustration and rage to the crewmen around him. "Let's get to the turbo-lift," he stated in the quiet corridor. T'Pol took the lead with Reed at her side.

B Deck was comprised of senior crew quarters. During the emergency the crew would be at their stations and the group hurried through the eerily empty corridors. Archer brought up the rear, herding the others ahead of him. Despite the stillness, Reed persisted in pausing before every twist and turn of the corridor, slinking along the walls and popping out from corners to verify the lack of aggressors before waving the others along behind him. The few moments it took to pass through the corridor were nerve-wracking.

Just before they reached the lift entrance, Archer fell behind to exert what proved to be a futile effort to access communications from the panel on the wall. Once more Jon mourned the loss of his assignment as explorer as he made a mental note to revisit Reed's suggestion that weapons be locked up in several locations around the ship. They may not be military but they certainly saw their share of action. As though summoned, Reed showed up at his side to urge him forward to rejoin the others. They discovered Hoshi with her ear pressed against the wall. "I can hear a scuttling sound, sir," she whispered into the stillness. She looked around at the others. "They're inside the walls."

"That would explain why communications are down," Malcolm guessed accurately. "They're probably chewing on wires and cables."

"I do not believe the turbo-lift is functioning," T'Pol announced, tapping keys on her hand-held scanner. "We will have to use the ladder in the maintenance shafts."

Mayweather was the first to head back a few paces and pull the panel that opened up a narrow tunnel with rungs secured to the walls. Reed went first and Mayweather followed. Azim and Cohen seemed apprehensive but scurried down the tunnel quickly. Hoshi followed with less exuberance but she kept her anxiety in check.

"Are you getting anything from Main Engineering?" Archer asked T'Pol, who held a communicator in her hand, but the slight line between her brows signified her frustration at a machine that refused to offer helpful answers.

"The readings are indeterminate," she replied. "The engine seems to be functioning, but we do not appear to be traveling through space." The Vulcan did not mention her certainty that she had suffered an injury, although she had not been struck, nor had she fallen. Yet it must be true; it was the only logical reason her chest hurt to draw breath. It had nothing to do with the curt and curtailed conversation with the Chief Engineer or the carnivorous space frogs they now faced. Concentrating carefully, she drew in a breath and let it loose while reciting the calming verses of her childhood. The old methods seemed to be working.

Archer nodded faintly and ushered her to the ladder with one hand. She climbed down with her usual grace. Jon followed with a heavy heart. He didn't want to lose his ship, but they seemed to be taking it from him. Enemies were all around him but he couldn't see them anywhere.

The brief trip was nerve-wracking. As the passed by C Deck they could hear faint sounds beyond the thin walls that surrounded them. Behind the thin panels surrounding them the faint sound of hysterical laughter permeated the near silence intermittently. No space frogs could be seen, but that maniacal laughter droned on.

* * *

_D Deck: Engineering_

The bridge officers were happy to reach the lower level of the engineering deck. Reed headed straight for the tiny cupboard that Trip called an office and pulled out a locked box; he made a living being prepared for the worst that could happen, and against his friends' wishes, he'd stashed a phase pistol here just in case and today he was glad of it. Offering the second weapon to Mayweather, he conferred quietly with the captain before escorting the junior crewmen to Sickbay to join the rest of the refugees.

Archer faced his chief engineer, deeply relieved to see his friend, but dreading the damage report that was sure to be full of bad news.

"It's not as bad as it looks," protested the engineer, swiping sweaty hair out of his eyes and leaving another smear of grease across his pale face. "They just started chewin' on anything they can digest, and they've disrupted communications and some other functions. But Jenkins had this idea of activating Echo Four to take the place of the Comm. systems until we can get them fully repaired; we should be able to use communicators in a few minutes. I don't think it'll be strong enough to disrupt the graviton interference of the debris field, but we'll be able to communicate around the ship." Trip sighed. "So far environmental controls are fine; we dropped the temperatures most drastically around places we thought we'd need, like the armory and the EV controls. There was a plasma rupture in the port nacelle and we had to clear that area. With only one nacelle still online we aren't gettin' out of here in any hurry, Cap'n." A tired smile broke though his dirt and sweat encrusted face. "But at least we aren't goin' down in a hurry either."

"The skylight on the Bridge took a direct hit from the _Xhardin_," Archer said. "We've lost the Bridge for now."

"All command functions were re-routed to the Command Center," T'Pol filled in. Those meditations had done wonders for her sense of well-being. Seeing what a fine job Commander Tucker was doing in keeping his department together was just the sort of morale boost that she needed to maintain her own composure. Her peace of mind had nothing to do with the way she felt about the way his blue orbs gleamed when they looked at his engine, or the way she wanted to brush that lock of hair out of his eyes before the grime dropped into his optical area and damaged his vision. No, really, it did not.

"If all they need to reproduce is a food supply, well..." Tucker looked around at the steam venting from several work stations and the small fire in the corner that refused to be put out completely and the red warning lights that kept blinking. "...We'll be outnumbered before they run out of things to chew on."

"How are the repairs faring?"

"Security is standin' over my repair teams as they work, but the creatures seem drawn to the noise or the smell or something. They're tearin' down the things we've patched before we're out of the corridor."

"Reed suggested a partial evacuation," Archer stated quietly.

T'Pol stood by silently. Trip sighed again. "That may not be such a bad idea," he nodded. "People are gatherin' in Sickbay. It's probably gonna look like a giant buffet to these things once they get tired of us freezin' 'em out of other places."

"Get to the Command Center," Archer instructed T'Pol. "Make sure we're out of the debris field. The last thing we need is to test the sturdiness of the escape pods at this particular moment. Then start preparations to remove non-essential persons from the ship. If we're able to get enough bulkheads in between us and the creatures we may not need to evacuate."

"Take a member of security with you," Trip cautioned her as she started to turn away.

"We should send MACO teams back into the upper decks to clear all personnel," the Vulcan countered, picking up a small tool kit and tucking it under her arm before signaling Crewman Foster to join her. She departed with a determined stride.

"You really gonna evacuate?" Trip asked.

"You think we have any other choice?" Archer countered. "We still don't carry enough weapons on board to arm every single person. We can't leave anyone defenseless against these things. They don't reason or think or..."

"They just eat and breed," Trip nodded, repeating the doctor's slightly panicked phrase.

Archer's head jerked upright. _Somehow she had known_. _Was it a medical observation or did she have something to do with all this?_ Jon shook his head; he may not like the doctor but she couldn't possibly have started this. She wasn't a monster. What was it T'Pol had said to him earlier? The doctor was similar to the captain in many ways. "I wish Phlox was here," Archer said out loud.

Trip cracked a tired grin. "He'd find a way to make those things part of his usual menagerie." Trip turned back to his tool kit and moved to a different location. "Think Andie'll turn their acidic blood into an antibiotic?"

"I just don't like the idea of going into combat with a doctor I didn't choose," Jon sighed. "I can't believe Starfleet Command forced her on us like this! How do they expect me to work under these conditions?" The brief flare of temper failed to relieve the tension growing inside him.

"Well, they put T'Pol on board too, and that seems to have worked out all right," Trip grunted. He was already half under a large piece of machinery.

"What?" For a moment Jonathan Archer thought his friend was speaking Greek.

"Command Council put T'Pol on board too, and you didn't think you wanted her," Trip's voice was muffled under the panel. "We had some problems but now she's one of us."

_How could he have forgotten that?_ It seemed like she'd been with them since the beginning. Well, the beginning of the mission to populate the ship at any rate. She was indispensable to him. He couldn't imagine life without her. He tried to picture the doctor being that important to him and shook his head. Lightning didn't strike like that twice. "I'm heading to the Command Center to check on the ship's diagnostics." Archer told Trip. He set out with a stride even more determined than the Vulcan's.

* * *

_Corridor E Deck:_

Andie fell into step with him like they'd been walking together for ages. "So...port airlock failed, huh? Crewman Moreno was happy to share that tidbit with the crowd in Sickbay when the shaking and noise stopped. I thought I was going to have to sedate half of them."

Archer scowled. "You'd better have good news, Doctor," he warned.

"I've had better," she admitted. "I've had worse, too." She sounded far too easy-going.

Jon stopped and glared at her.

"Okay, so the good news is that I think I've found a chemical that renders their internal acid ineffective. The bad news is that it makes them sick. When they get sick they vomit up another egg sack and the new creature does not appear to be affected by the neutralizing agent. We could probably render them less harmful but they'd double their population."

"That's not good," Archer grumbled.

"They also eat their own kind, especially if they are weak or deficient." Andie added.

"Carnivores and cannibals," Archer sighed. "Just what we needed. We may need to slow them down for a bit." He looked at her more closely. "You've had some training in emergency services."

That was something of an understatement. "Yeah, I've had some training," Andie smirked. Emergency medical service was one of her specialties. She'd had a hand in developing the newest emergency protocols on the NX-class starships, in addition to being a member of FEMR, Earth's First Emergency Medical Response. FEMR went where nobody else could in order to save lives.

"We may need it. We may be evacuating some of the crew." Jon turned and continued down the corridor to the Command Center.

"I volunteer to boot Reed out the airlock," she suggested cheerfully, earning an extremely dour look from the captain. "Fine, you choose the survivors," she acquiesced easily.

"I hear Sickbay's crowded," Archer went on. Every step down this corridor brought fresh memories. He shared a joke with Burrows at that junction once. They'd replaced the deck plating here three times in the Expanse. The crew on Jupiter Station had wired the panel wrong and they'd had to go back and rewire the entire section back before _Enterprise_ had even launched. He knew this ship inside and out, and the thought of cutting and running was just more than he could be comfortable with. "What's the mood down there?"

"Concerned, but so far they seem to be holding it together," Andie informed him curtly, matching his steps easily.

"Keep them calm. I'm going to try and distract the creatures from the escape pods to give the crew time to launch without disturbance."

"How are you going to do that?" she asked curiously.

"I'm working on a plan," Archer hedged. He moved ahead of her in the corridor.

"Jon?" He turned around. "Be careful. They're smarter than they look."

"So am I," he assured her.

She waited until he left to roll her eyes.

* * *

_E Deck: Command Center_

"The Armory is lost," T'Pol offered as soon as he stepped through the doors. "Truax recalled the teams working there when the creatures came in through the retractable turrets. She managed to seal the entrances, although it's possible the creatures who were still inside the walls continued to progress further outside of the blockade. The laundry facility was evacuated earlier."

Archer hit a console with a frustrated fist. "Why aren't the low temperatures slowing them down?"

"We can only regulate temperatures inside the rooms," T'Pol answered. "The computers and machinery continue to emit heat and the creatures seem to be multiplying in those places."

The Bridge was gone. The Armory was gone. "What about the other decks?"

"Security is having trouble maintaining C Deck. They evacuated the galley and dropped the bulkheads in that section, but the animals seem to sense the food supply there and that's where they are currently concentrating their attacks."

They had control of half the decks. With the crew crowding in Sickbay it was only a matter of time before the creatures got wind of it and transferred their focus to that area of the ship. There were only a handful of weapons on the ship; there was no hope of holding the hungry creatures off indefinitely.

Options were limited. "Order non-essential personnel to the escape pods," Archer sighed. "We'll thin out their meat supply. Keep armed security and an engineering team on board. We'll seek these creatures out in smaller groups." He thought about that one more time. "And then we'll destroy them." Jon swallowed hard. "I'd like you to take control of the evacuation. Keep the pods on the outskirts of the planet's atmosphere. We'll call you back when the ship is ours."

"I cannot leave you," T'Pol offered with quiet determination.

Jon turned to his first officer. "I need you to take care of my crew. There is nobody else who can do it better. Don't let me down."

T'Pol pressed her lips together and nodded. She made a few more commands at the keyboard and the klaxon started ringing throughout the ship. Archer picked up his communicator. "Attention all hands! This is the captain speaking...!"

* * *

_E Deck: Sickbay_

Andie entered the crowded room where voices were registering shock and surprise. She whistled loudly and silence fell in the room. "All right, people! You heard the man! If you are not a member of security or engineering, form two lines and prepare to evacuate to the escape pods! Let's go!"

"We can't really be leaving the ship?" called out one crewman in surprise.

"Where will we go?"

"There's a habitable planet not far from here," Andie spoke clearly into the din. "Move out, people!" She made several hand gestures at Ensign Black and he nodded vaguely at her silent commands, wiping away his shock before moving into action.

"This can't be happening!" another worried voice quavered.

Dr. Brainerd turned on that voice with the force of a displeased drill sergeant. "You work in the laundry, right?" Her voice was not as forceful as the expression on her face. "The creatures got in there and MACO's came for you, right?"

The crewman nodded.

"Did they kill the creatures?" Andie demanded.

"They...had to get us out. The creatures were gone when they turned around."

"So extraneous crew got the in way and the creatures escaped?" She raised one eyebrow. "This is a tactical decision. Remove all non-essential personnel and then the MACO's don't have to worry about stragglers. They just shoot at anything that moves. They'll have this ship clean in a few hours." Her brows drew together. "So if you're not part of the security or engineering teams, get you butts into the escape pods, pronto!" There was no movement. "MOVE!" she barked.

"I've got the starboard side! Form a line behind me!" Hoshi raised a hand and stepped to one side of the double doors.

"I've got the port side!" Ensign Shannen raised and hand and stepped to the other side of the double doors. "Let's go, people!" Her pale face flushed pink at the command that came out of her mouth.

"I'll make a note of the last person in line," Andie raised her voice. "That person will be relegated to clean up when we get back here!"

People scrambled into line. Ensign Black had brought a pair of crutches for Crewman Moreno. Crewman Cutler grabbed a heavy silver case of medical supplies and escorted the crewman out the door. Black returned and hefted two more cases. Ensign Macy, a member of the navigation team, took one from Black and they headed out the door behind the line.

Reed slipped in between the single files and looked around with surprise. "I thought you might be in need of some help here. You seem to have it under control."

"Nah," Andie waved away his concerns. "Piece of cake! Once they heard you were staying aboard, they couldn't wait to get out of here."

Malcolm tried to glare at her, forcing his lips out of the smile they were tempted to make and into a frown. Frowning got easier when he saw what she was up to. "You're well armed," he noted.

She was fastening the buckle to the double scabbard around her back. One handle of the short swords they had been dueling with just a few hours ago peeked over each shoulder, and an unfamiliar pistol rested on her thigh. It was her electro mag-pulse pistol with genetic grip handle; a remnant of her time spent with pirates, and certainly not regulation.

"Do you have a permit for that?" he scowled.

"Yes, I do," she nodded. "Not on Earth, but there's one out there in the stars somewhere," she grinned cheekily.

"Doctor..." Reed started to protest.

"Do you have a spare pistol for me?" she challenged. She knew he didn't when he hesitated. "Well then, don't worry about it now. Charge me tomorrow."

"I'll charge you for being out of uniform as well," He noted. She wasn't wearing the heavy silver jackets the rest of the crew had on. She was wearing a green tunic that fell nearly to her knees. He couldn't see it but he was pretty sure she had another large alien knife tucked into her boot.

"I'll look forward to the reprimand," she grimaced.

"How's your nose?" he inquired softly.

She looked at him with surprise. "It's fine." Waving away any further inquiries, she nodded at his phase pistol. "Shouldn't you be escorting the crew to the escape pods?"

Malcolm straightened. "I have something else to finish first." He nodded at her before turning and heading back down the hall to the Decon Chamber. He didn't find the six creatures he had been looking for. He did find a disgusting mess.

The doctor whispered over his shoulder. "They eat their own kind if there's a lack of other meat."

"That's...useful."

Andie started in surprise. She'd expected a feeling of revulsion, like the others had offered.

"If we evacuate the ship, perhaps they'll eat each other and leave us in peace." Reed pondered the ways to get an attacker to eat his companions.

"I do love a man of vision," she grinned. She picked up a container resting on the floor in front of Decon and consulted it intently.

"What's that?" Reed inquired.

"It may take away their advantage, but it'll probably double their population."

"That's a double-edged sword," Reed remarked. "You should be making your way to an escape pod."

Andie looked up and smiled. "I'm going to secure Sickbay then I'll be off."

"Do you have protection?" Reed inquired, meaning that she should have a member of security at her side. He hadn't considered other implications of that statement until she flashed that naughty grin.

"Baby, I've got all kinds of protection," she smirked as she waggled her eyebrows.

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Does this seem like a good time to offer a sexual invitation?"

"If we don't live through the night this might be the last chance I have to proposition a pretty man," she grinned.

_Did she just call him pretty?_ Squirming, he asked "What do you think Commander Tucker might say about that?"

The commander paid way too much attention to the attention she paid to Reed already. Tucker would never let her live it down. "I don't want to know," she giggled.

This might have been the moment that Reed told her that her relationship with Tucker deserved more respect, but he was interrupted by the communicator in his pocket.

"_Security to D Deck!"_ Apparently the creatures had found their way to Main Engineering.

"You have to go," Andie noted.

"So do you," Reed admonished, nodding toward the escape pods.

"Give me twenty seconds!" she responded lightly, heading back to Sickbay with her canister.

Once there she made a few modifications of her own. The few of Phlox's creatures that remained were secured in their recessed wall cupboards. She sealed the doors and vents into and out of the medical wing. Then she checked for her felines, who were not in their accustomed cushioned area on top of the storage compartments. The computer could not locate their bio-signatures though. Before she left the room that was as much like home to her as anywhere else she'd ever been, she turned down the heat and the lights, leaving the sterile room in cold darkness.

* * *

_Enterprise: E Deck_

Echo Four was working wonders from its location just outside the ship; communicators were back to business as usual. For once this did not make Archer feel better. The humans were doing everything they could but they didn't seem to be gaining any ground. They were slowly being crushed between two unmanageable forces.

As soon as T'Pol indicated that she was inside an escape pod, Archer had polarized the hull plating in an effort to disturb as many creatures as possible then gave the command for lift-off, hoping that the space frogs would be too busy with their own pain to pay any attention to the momentarily open hatches that released the escape pods.

He watched the console that indicated half of the escape pods had launched successfully. The galley crew, the medical staff, and most of the science team had just left them behind. He couldn't imagine how that felt. The port side of the ship was having difficulties releasing the docking clamps. Archer used a communicator to deploy a couple MACO's in that direction and in a few moments another handful of pods had launched. There went the communication staff and the navigators and a large portion of the lower decks crew. Now he only had to worry about the safety of a few engineers and the MACO's.

This felt wrong; it twisted his insides into knots. The last thing he wanted to do was lose the one last connection to his father, and stepping off this ship would accomplish that. It would mean admitting that there was nothing he could do, that he was helpless in the face of a more determined foe. Nothing was more determined than he was! His jaw set into a painfully stubborn expression. He pressed a few more keys then signaled the MACO assigned to his side. They sealed the door behind them and headed for Main Engineering.

* * *

_D Deck: Main Engineering_.

Rostov and his bodyguard raced into the room and swung the door shut behind them, leaning on it to secure the latch. "They really don't want us repairing the power transfer conduits!" he gasped when Tucker appeared on the scene.

"There were too many to hold off!" Riley huffed.

"It's getting too cold for them in other areas of the ship!" Lt. Hess guessed. "We've been having trouble with all the repair teams!" There were so many red lights flashing, it was hard to see anything through the haze of smoke.

"If we don't get those transfer conduits online, the plasma's going to back up and rupture right into this room!" Trip protested. It didn't do any good to chastise Rostov; they were coming and there was no stopping them.

Rostov sighed heavily. "In that case I'm going to need a lot more security at my back!"

Behind Trip the engine spewed sparks in every direction. "We're losing containment! We'll have to shut down the plasma flow!" He sprang for the catwalk to the main controls. He reached for the buttons just as the ship was rocked by an explosion. He and several crewmen were tossed to the ground roughly. Lights and sirens flashed imperatively around the engine room with ongoing screams.

"Son of a bitch!" he moaned, cradling his left arm against his body.

"The venting gasses collected at the rear of the ship and ignited on a plasma stream burning off the port nacelle," Hess answered before he even asked as he stumbled to the main computer banks. She looked at him with wide eyes. "I think we may have lost the rear of the ship, sir."

He picked up his communicator. "Cap'n, I think we're about to lose the entire engine!" he reported to Archer.

The line went dead.

"Everyone out!" Trip called out, he started herding men and women out of the large room even as he climbed back onto the catwalk in an attempt to shut down the engine before it blew them all off the ship. "Get to the escape pods!"

* * *

_D Deck: Forward Access Tunnel_

Archer had been in the process of coming to lend his assistance when he heard Trip's frantic call. The force of the explosion had driven him and his marine to their knees, generating yet another bruise that would keep him up at night with its dull ache. How much of the ship had they lost when they lost plasma containment? He hated the idea that he had sent the medical staff on one of the early pods; he would probably need their input. Archer sealed the panel behind him and scrambled to his feet, heading for Main Engineering at a run.

He kept thinking the only thing worse than losing this ship would be to lose his friend.

The breath he let out at seeing Trip leaning against the portal was enough to make his knees shake. "Trip! What happened?"

"They got into the plasma transfer conduits, sir," Crewman Rostov answered shamefacedly. "The plasma backed up. We think it might have..."

"I've got this, Mike," Trip interrupted. He faced the captain. "I think we might have lost the back of the saucer section. The plasma leak was superheated by a fire from the port nacelle."

"We're dead in the water," Archer stated, feeling his insides turn over.

"We're probably losing life support," Trip nodded. "I had to shut down the engine. We're evacuating the ship."

Archer glanced behind him. _Did he hear the sound of hysterical laughter behind him? Or was that just his imagination?_ "Yeah, I think it's time to go," he agreed. He picked up his communicator. "Captain Archer to all hands. It's time to go! Get to an escape pod!"

Trip shuffled his feet. "I don't think they can hear you. I think the blast may have taken out Echo Four."

"Start dropping bulkheads on this level. Let's make it as hard as possible for those things to get in here." People might be trapped on the ship, but there was no way to tell them to go anywhere else. "Seal all doors and panels. Get me a communicator working, Trip. I need to talk to T'Pol." He looked at the other engineers standing around. "Get to the escape pods!" he barked.

Hess started herding them all down the corridor.

Archer looked at Trip. "Do we have a count of the bodi...personnel left on board?" It didn't do any good pretending he hadn't meant to call them bodies. It didn't do any good to pretend they were just inanimate things left over, rather than people he had known and lived with and worked with either.

"I think there were two dozen," Trip stated uncomfortably. "Most of those were here in Engineering. There's still a few that haven't come back from their repairs."

His heart sunk. "Let's hope they have the good sense to get off the ship," Archer stated grimly. He patted his friend on the shoulder as they made their way to the other command panels on this level to take care of the bulkheads before entering their own pod.

* * *

_D Deck: Aft_

Malcolm followed the data on his scanner and turned another corner. An access panel was open; obviously the repairman was in there. A pair of feet appeared in the open hole. The legs attached to the feet bent and a tousled head appeared. Ensign Mazaro stepped into the corridor in front of him and stretched upright, looking surprised to be found by the head of security. "He won't come down," Mazaro babbled. "He thinks he can help! He won't come down! I can hear them up there!"

"Hear who? Reed asked, waving the young man back as he stepped up to the open panel.

"Those things are there but Henry thinks...Ensign Bowman, that is...thinks he can open the refueling valve from inside the ship. I told him that's impossible! Only the guys at Jupiter Station can manage that, and we aren't at Jupiter Station and he's going to get fried when all that plasma starts flowing this way, but if it doesn't..."

Mazaro's voice got fainter as Malcolm stepped inside the narrow confines of the access tunnel.

"...lose the main engine!"

Mazaro's voice died away as Malcolm climbed the ladder with difficulty, since he wouldn't holster his phase pistol.

"Ensign? This is Lt Reed! Ensign Bowman!" Reed called out. He could hear a scuttling sound. It sounded like it was right next to his ear, but a quick turn of his head indicated there was nothing there. Not inside this tunnel anyway; it was possible one of those meat eating creatures was just on the other side of the access tube.

He reached the first junction and looked both ways before deciding to keep climbing. The plasma flow regulators were one level higher. It wasn't so long ago that Henry Bowman couldn't be bribed into the narrow confines of his chosen profession; apparently he'd found something worth endangering his life for, and it might cost him that very life. Malcolm swiped at his forehead with one sleeve. The temperature was a good deal warmer up here. Mazaro said something about Bowman messing with the plasma flow regulators; surely the boy wouldn't be diverting the flow in this direction? The transfer conduits weren't reinforced here. Without proper shielding he'd be cooked!

No matter how ridiculous the idea, he did find a pair of black boots poking out of one of the narrow arteries leading to the rear of the ship. "Ensign Bowman! We have to leave this area now!" After the chill of the rest of this ship, this tiny tube was growing hotter every second.

"Just a minute, Lieutenant," Bowman grunted. "I just have to open this safety valve..."

"That safety valve is closed for a good reason!" Malcolm replaced his pistol in his holster. He could definitely hear the chortle of those abhorrent creatures close by; he could only hope that they were detained in a secondary conduit and that he wouldn't meet any of them on the way down. "You'll be cooked!"

"The plasma is being rerouted due to damage to the conduits," Bowman persisted. "If the pressure backs up, it'll blow inside the ship!"

"We're going now!" Malcolm insisted. He grabbed the younger man's foot. The metal of the ladder rung was becoming extremely hot to the touch.

"Sir! Please! I have to release this last safety valve!"

"No! Now!" Malcolm braced himself against the ladder and gave one good yank. Bowman slid out of the shaft, protesting and attempting to wiggle back inside. Reed wrapped one arm around the young man's throat and shifted his weight, sliding the boy down about three rungs before the junior officer clutched at the bars to stop his descent. In spite of the growing heat, the boy scrambled back up the ladder like a squirrel would climb a tree and before Reed could grab him by the waistband, he had latched onto the final spiral valve and forced the dial around, whimpering at the pain.

Reed could smell the singed skin from below, and this time he didn't let go of the kid as he dragged him down the ladder by gathering of fabric at the small of his back. Cuffing the kid by the neck, he shoved him down the access tunnel as the air heated all around them.

The hyena-like laughter that had been in the back of his mind was wiped out as a louder roar took its place, rushing overhead like a freight train. The ladder was too hot to touch and the kid was trembling all over. When the entire ship jerked suddenly accompanied by a sound reminiscent of old-fashioned cannon fire, both men fell to the ground.

Luckily they were close to the ground. There was no rest for them; outside Ensign Mazaro screeched loudly. The sounds of his cries were mixed with other cries; high-pitched screams that raised gooseflesh on the arms of the listeners.

Reed untangled himself from the young man and scrambled out into the corridor. Mazaro's pointing finger directed their attention as the lights flickered. An entire squadron of space frogs hopped out of a nearby access port, chittering away with excitement. Reed drew his phase pistol and fired it at the oncoming horde and one of their numbers fell to the ground.

"Stay behind me!" he called back to the young pair. He could only hope that Bowman hadn't been further damaged in the fall and that Mazaro had the wherewithal to assist his damaged friend to his feet. He fired again and another fell. He was trying to press forward and cover their escape through the main corridor junction ahead. Another bolt of phaser fire took out a hopping creature, but there were three more coming his way. He was going to be overrun. They had to get out of here. Their only chance was the opening at the T-junction just ahead.

The engineers must have understood because Malcolm sensed a flash of movement out of his peripheral vision. He changed his mind about the engineers, deciding they had some help when a distinctly female voice crooned nearby. "On your left, Sparky."

The doctor ducked around his upraised arms to charge the creature that had launched itself through the air and was heading straight for Malcolm's head. As graceful as a bird skimming the surface of a lake as it trolled for prey, Andie swung one of those short swords over her head and pierced the creature straight through its chest cavity. With the assistance of her second blade, she slid the impaled creature off her weapon and whacked it with the flat of the blade, sending it back down the hall where the others were growing louder with their incessant jocularity. The wounded creature hit the floor in front of several advancing space frogs. They were happy to momentarily abandon their assault of the humans in order to munch on their unexpected feast.

"They like their meat fresh," she told Reed, turning her back on the squadron of carnivores and indicating that he should follow her through the junction into the main corridor.

"I'll remember that," he muttered as he hit the button to seal the portal behind them. "I thought I told you to get into an escape pod?"

Andie studied him dourly. "I thought I told you I needed twenty seconds?" She dropped to her knees to study Bowman's burned hands.

"I think you've had almost an hour," Reed replied.

"Well then, let's go," she snorted impatiently. She got to her feet and scowled down at Bowman. "If you've got third degree burns, you are in so much trouble, mister!"

Mazaro helped his friend to his feet as Bowman forced a grin. "Yes, Doc," Henry agreed, cradling his arms close to his body. His hands were already sporting blisters.

Andie took three steps down the hall and picked up two satchels, slinging them both over her shoulders and staggering under the weight. One was a large canvas duffle slung over her back and the other was a slightly smaller satchel cradled in front.

"You remained on board to worry about possessions?" Reed fumed. Of all the people he'd ever met, she had the most gall.

"It's my survival kit and I can't live without it!" she snapped, trying to yank on the lever to raise the bulkhead unsuccessfully. She was hindered by the two heavy bags she carried.

"You're going to have to leave your things behind," he tried to reason with her.

"It's my survival kit…" she began again.

"…And you can't live without them; I heard," Malcolm finished with exasperation, reaching around her to pull the lever and release the hatch. "At least let me carry one of them. You can't manage them both."

The former pirate had the nerve to look at him distrustfully.

"I promise I won't jettison anything without good cause."

She didn't even crack a smile.

"We're running out of time," he pointed out.

Slowly she pulled off the smaller bag and slung it around the neck of Henry Bowman. "Don't listen to Reed when he tells you to drop it. I will follow that bag anywhere you throw it," she told him sternly, shifting her larger bag to a more comfortable position on her shoulders.

Reed seethed. He had to believe she'd do it too.

"I won't let go, Doc," Henry promised, cradling the sack as much as possible with his withered hands.

Mazaro looked at his roommate in disgust, even as he stepped forward to assist him.

Reed led the way down the corridor. At the next junction their way was barred as the bulkhead slammed to the floor, sealing the corridor in front of them. Behind them the other bulkhead slammed down, sealing the corridor behind. The final door in this corridor was already dropping as he came upon it. Urging the others to hurry, Reed ducked under the heavy blockade, leaving the two junior officers to scramble and the doctor to flatten her body to the floor and roll through with just centimeters to spare.

"What are the odds we can make it to the Launch Bay?" Reed asked out loud.

"Not good," Andie reported quietly, hoping the younger men wouldn't hear. "I wouldn't have come this way if there was a shuttle pod available. I was heading for the last escape pod on the starboard side."

"I think this bulkhead just finished that plan," Reed admitted, scowling at the blockade.

"There's another pod portside, forward," she told him.

"Portside, forward?" Reed repeated. "How do you know?"

"I was looking for a way off the ship when the blast shut off communications," she admitted. "It's behind a bulkhead next to the transporter alcove, and probably far enough away that Engineering hasn't co-opted it yet."

"We'll have to go down one level and then up again," Malcolm sighed. He snuck a peek at Bowman. "Can he climb on those hands?"

"He's going to have to," the doctor stated stubbornly.

"I'll be fine, Lieutenant," Bowman piped up.

Reed stared at the young man, struggling under the weight of the doctor's pack and nearly being carried by his roommate.

"Give me that!" he heaved a sigh, dragging the strap from around the kid's neck and settling it around his own. There was something soft and malleable inside; he suspected that damned woman had been running around trying to find her damned useless cats! She wasn't kidding when she said she'd go wherever he threw the satchel, although Reed might be tempted to toss it out an airlock. He muttered. "I can't imagine I'd get fired for letting you lie in the bed you made."

"You're far too concerned with my bed practices," she replied cheekily.

"Let's go!" Malcolm groused. With difficulty he pried open the access panel that led to the lower deck, and gestured at the doctor to go first. He noted with approval that Bowman gritted his teeth to contain the whimper of pain in order to climb down silently.

When they were all standing on E Deck, Reed led the way through the empty darkened corridor, lit only by emergency lights. The blue bulbs threw awkward shadows against the walls and gave him a headache to look at them. The corridors down here were not at all crowded although the intermittent giggles could be heard behind various panels along the way.

"They're not coming through," Mazaro whispered, afraid even the sound of their whispers would bring the hungry creatures down on them. "I thought they were coming through the walls?"

"Not today," Andie muttered. She waited until Reed had disappeared up through the narrow access tunnel before ushering the boys up ahead of her. She climbed up last.

The hyena-laughter was louder up here. "They're in the corridor," Reed whispered. He gestured with his chin and Andie could make out the faint shadow of a small creature toying with a tool kit left lying around.

"They're closer than that!" she stated quickly. Something dark flew through the air and her sword swiped at it before anyone else recognized that she was going to draw it. The dark shaped was knocked against the wall and rolled away down the corridor.

"Crap!" Andie hissed. She showed her blade to a surprised Malcolm, who'd just had time to duck. "Their blood ate through my blade!" The metal looked like Swiss cheese. She tossed the useless thing down the corridor and pulled the other weapon out. Only the tip of this one had suffered damage from her slice and dice of the leaping creature on D Deck. Furious, she stepped forward and impaled both the lunging creature here and the smaller one still gnawing on the tool kit.

"Doctor!" Reed called out, warning her of incoming attackers.

A blaze of light burned its way past her arm and cooked one of the creatures moving forward. It didn't stop Andie. She hit the button on the wall. Nothing happened. She turned around to pick up the tool kit and her bent figure allowed Reed the chance to fire on another one. Using a screwdriver, she forced the panel open and yanked out two of the wires inside. The bulkhead door slammed down, sealing the transporter alcove from the invading aliens.

Andie stomped past Reed and cuffed the young boys on the neck. "Pod's this way, boys!"

"I thought doctors were supposed to preserve life," Malcolm couldn't resist poking the bear. Truth be told, there was something stimulating about a woman who could take care of herself. Just not this woman, he thought silently.

"I don't like those things," she growled, aware of the growling and scratching of monsters hiding behind the thin panels of the walls. "Move it, Sparky. Let's get out of here!"

On the other side of the access tunnel they'd climbed to reach this deck, Malcolm hit the security button and another door sealed the section of corridor off. He followed the woman into the escape pod and took the controls, making sure the others were secured in their seats before sealing the door and pressing the release button. Mechanisms cranked and clanged tiredly as the docking latch released. A sudden jerk ejected the small craft from the main body of the ship and they were flying through space.


	5. Chapter 5

Renaisterre

Chapter 5

By Lieuten Keen

* * *

_Alien Planet_:

_Twilight_

"What the hell?"

The landing had been rough and may have contributed to the way Archer launched his body out of the escape pod with all the verve of a bull about to charge a velvet-clad matador. Several hours had passed since their ejection from _Enterprise_ had brought them to the planet's surface, but it hadn't been long enough to find the answer to the one question the captain wanted to know.

"What the hell happened?" he barked as Trip assisted the other two occupants out of the pod. The engineer threw a worried glance at the captain, but said nothing.

Mistakenly assuming he wanted an explanation regarding how they came to be on the ground, Commander T'Pol untangled her attentions from a worried group and approached him as calmly as she could manage. "Lt. Kelby noticed the sensors indicating the oncoming plasma eruption and moved his pod out of harm's way. Unfortunately he brought the pod very close to the planet's atmosphere and the gravity pulled it down. Other pods followed, assuming he had been given clearance to land. This location is the furthest from the epicenter of the radioactive decay, but the terrain is proving troublesome. Two pods have been damaged, and one tumbled into a gulley. The crew is attempting to rescue the occupants."

Normally his first officer's deep brown eyes and even tone would offer the captain some comfort but he had just been kicked off his ship by animals that stood no taller than his knee and they couldn't even speak a word of a recognizable language. Archer just stood there nodding his head, but not really comprehending the words.

"Excuse us, Captain. We'll give 'em a hand," Trip jumped in, indicating that Hess and Rostov should also assist with the fallen craft. The three engineers headed into the woods, leaving Archer alone, surrounded as they were by nearly a hundred people, with T'Pol.

"Plasma eruption?" He could only repeat the words dumbly; the shock hadn't worn away yet. He'd seen the hull damage through the view screen of the escape pod sensors. With all the bypasses and secondary relays being routed and rerouted in attempts to evade the damage inflicted by the space frogs the combustible substance had run out of space to flow and backed up. It would have burst through the conduits in Main Engineering and killed everyone who remained but luckily something had forced the material in another direction, sending it aft to burst through the hull and spray into space. More than two decks were open now, ripped apart as though a giant hand had peeled back the sides. He remained disbelieving; he had just gotten his vessel put back together again! On more than one occasion Jon had heard the retelling of how the Xindi Reptilians had attacked _Enterprise_ as it orbited Azati Prime. While he'd seen the damage in the aftermath he had not witnessed the attack personally. Right now he was intensely grateful he had been in a torture chamber on the surface rather than on board his ship to watch the wound-making firsthand. "Injuries?"

"We are still compiling a crew roster," T'Pol answered shortly as she studied his unnaturally pale face with concern. The captain's green eyes were glazed over; he didn't seem to comprehend any of the information she was trying to transmit to him. "Not all of the pods have landed."

Jon's eyes traveled over the ragtag band of people that covered the mountainous landscape, so familiar and yet so foreign. He caught sight of Crewman Marcil, sitting on the ground with a make-shift bandage pressed to his head, and he suddenly thought of one more thing those damn dirty creatures had taken from him, causing his respiration to increase further. The steward appeared to have been unable to retrieve the captain's dog. His chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

One last escape pod drifted toward the mountainside, circling carefully before dropping gracefully to the earth with barely a bump. The door opened before those inside could possibly have tested the atmosphere and a pair of figures burst forth. The first slender figure dropped face first into the dirt while the second hovered anxiously in the background.

"Doctor, are you all right?" Reed inquired anxiously. Although she hadn't shown much fear on the ship surrounded by carnivores, the trip through the rough atmosphere and onto the ground was another story. Henry wound up holding one of her hands awkwardly in his hastily bandaged ones while she squeezed her eyes shut and refused to open them.

"Ground, Ground, how I love you, Ground." Dr. Andie's crooning voice carried through the melee as she petted the dirt under her cheek and kissed the earth with loud smooching noises. "What good ground you are! Never leave me, you luscious loamy land!"

Since the rest of the medical staff had been evacuated with the first batch, Archer had expected the chief medical officer to be already milling around with the others. This sudden arrival did not sit well with his rising temper giving way to a sudden need to do some sort of violence, in a futile effort to avenge the life of his ship and his canine companion; Archer set his jaw and set out to relieve a little frustration.

Malcolm tried a softer approach. "Andrea, that landing was as smooth as a baby's butt!" he protested, using Commander Tucker's favored phrase, complete with a satisfactory representation of the southern drawl. The deep worry lines on his brow disappeared when she rolled over and looked up at him with a ragged smile edged with dirt.

"You go around feeling up infant's behinds, Lieutenant? You can get into a lot of trouble for that."

Tension fled from his face to be replaced by irritation. Humor, no matter how perverse, was definitely better than her white-knuckled grip clutching the seat so hard that it was bound to have left ten half-moon crescents in the armrest. With a heavy sigh he reached out a hand to assist her rise from the ground, but froze as he noticed the captain stomping toward them.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Archer bellowed fiercely, stumbling on the uneven soil in the failing light.

Unsure who he was yelling at, the pair froze in place as they watched the captain rage like an oncoming storm.

"You could have been killed! Lives could have been lost! Have you _ever_ followed a single order you've ever been given?"

They both had the same thought_: Oh, he was talking to Andie._

"Before you say anything further, Jon," Andie sat upright and brushed the brown earth from the front of her pale blue scrubs. "I have something for you." She took Malcolm's hand and struggled to her unsteady feet, snatching the smaller satchel from the grasp of the ensign who offered it from the doorway of the pod. The weight of it strained her arm as she offered it, in turn, to the captain.

_How dare she offer him a gift in the middle of his rebuke?_ He couldn't in all fairness continue to shout at her when she offered something. Clamping his mouth shut, he snatched the satchel from her. Pulling at the strings that secured it, he turned his glare to the opening he made and peeked inside.

What he found in there removed the rest of the anger from his face. "Porthos!" he whispered. Crewman Marcil had not retrieved the canine from his quarters as he was supposed to but it looked like the damned doctor had done just that. Jerking his head up, he scowled at Andie to cover the sudden wetness that stung his eyes. "What did you do to him?"

"He's sleeping," she answered shakily. "We had a rough ride and I thought he'd enjoy it more if he was asleep. Believe me; he did. I wish I'd joined him." She shouldered the second satchel and nearly knocked herself over with its weight.

Reed was surprised. He'd been sure it was her creatures in that bag, not the captain's dog. "What about your cats?" Malcolm inquired softly.

"Couldn't find them," she answered. "They ran." Taking a deep breath she faced the captain, who was content to nuzzle the sleeping head of his pooch. "It'll be dark soon. We should set up a security perimeter before nightfall." She disappeared into the crowd of people, calling for her med-techs.

Malcolm darted a look at the Captain. "I'll see to the arrangements, sir."

Jon cradled his beagle and tried to get a grip on his feelings of impotence and frustrated rage. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

_Alien planet_

_Evening:_

After a brief tour, Archer settled on a rock near the outskirts of the crash site. Pods were scattered across a sizeable distance of the strange land that looked so familiar and yet so foreign. Tall trees that might have been conifers clutched at the dry earth on the side of the rocky face of a steep hillside. Pale-faced people loitered around in little clutches and groups while blue and red lights flashed from the emergency pods. Some were injured while others just looked beaten.

The head chef shuffled up to the captain, wringing his hands. In his stumbling, hesitant way he asked permission to hand out emergency ration packs. "The doctor thought it might help to settle their nerves," he offered nervously. A man better suited to elegant restaurants than life on an exploratory space vessel, Chef always took pride in his appearance. But today his white coat was stained and wrinkled and his toque lolled over one eye. Archer granted permission for the distribution of food with a wave of his hand. He wanted to say something inspiring to the fretful man, but he couldn't think of anything positive to say.

Lt. Hess and Commander Tucker were conferring in a quiet huddle. She made an urgent gesture at the taller man and Tucker sighed before moving to stand before the captain. "Hess said we ought to work out some sort of latrine situation," Trip started without preamble. "She thinks we shouldn't wander around too much in the dark."

"That's a good idea," Jon nodded. Porthos continued to breathe evenly in his lap and the even sounds of normal respiration were soothing over the pounding in his head.

"She said the Doc told her she didn't want to wrap a hun'nerd twisted ankles in the mornin'," Trip grinned tiredly. "I'll put a team together and see what we can do." Tucker moved away and gave a thumb's up to his petite second in command.

T'Pol moved closer to Archer. "All non-essential personnel should remain inside their emergency pods tonight."

"Doc tell you that too?" he grumbled.

"It is sound advice," T'Pol murmured.

It was silly but he didn't want to take any advice, sound or not, from that damned woman. She had been nothing but trouble ever since she came on board, and he was at the end of his rope with her. Unfortunately, he didn't have the strength to argue with his first officer. "See that they are comfortable," he acknowledged. That damned woman was the closest thing they had to a resident expert at the moment. "I'd like to meet with the senior staff before they bed down."

"I will inform them," the Vulcan promised. She rose elegantly and moved through the crowd.

* * *

_Alien Plant: _

_Eventide_

The foursome met on the outskirts of camp. T'Pol tucked her hands into the meager warmth of the silver Starfleet jacket and tried not to inhale too deeply as Commander Tucker hunched beside her, wiping his sweaty palms on his uniform before planting his hands firmly in his pockets as he made the announcement that the four crewmen in the fallen pod were mostly uninjured, although the vessel could not say the same. It was stationary for the moment, and the crew was receiving treatment. With some embarrassment he also mentioned that the latrine was functioning. He pulled his cap down low on his head and waited for the others to speak.

Reed and Archer faced the pair, both having had the same unspoken thought; that they could keep an eye on the troublesome doctor without much interference from this angle. Three lines stretched away from the area Andie had designated the medical ward and all three technicians were working quickly to monitor all the life signs and symptoms of the crew. She had been far too busy to cause much trouble today, but that didn't mean that either man could relax.

T'Pol began the informative meeting. "Ensign Sato performed a roll call. All crewmen are present and accounted for. Ensign Cutler assisted, performing triage as she passed along the doctor's request to see everybody in Medical before the evening is up. The injuries were mostly minor."

"That's good," Reed stated quietly.

"Good?" Archer snarled. "We've been thrown off the ship!"

The captain's outburst was nothing new to Reed, who had suffered his share of the foul temper during the tense mission in the Expanse. Their leader did not handle stressful situations very well. He merely shrugged. "Traumatic injuries mean blood. Blood attracts predators. It's a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless, sir." He didn't say anything else, but the attack still rattled him. Captains should be above such temperaments.

A faint tune drifted on the wind and distracted Archer; the doctor whistled while she worked. He could see that she had matters well in hand. She toiled away at her job, smiling and patting crewmen on the shoulders for comfort. If he hadn't known her, he might find it difficult to believe that she had suffered like the rest of them.

"The doctor would like to see the senior staff as soon as convenient," T'Pol added, jerking Archer's attention back to the group.

There didn't seem to be anything else to say. The quartet disbanded uncomfortably.

When the others were gone, the captain made his aching body comfortable on a log near his escape pod, soothing his dog with long even strokes as the pooch woke up. He'd been amazed at how fast everything had come together, but it seemed that the doctor was using the quick exams to extend information about grouping together and remaining calm. _"The doctor said..."_ It was a phrase that kept popping up. Jon couldn't help but remember the smirk she'd offered when he suggested that she might have some training in emergency services. Clearly she had more than a little.

Of course she did. She'd been ship-wrecked before. He was sickened to think that her expertise would come in handy. He shivered in the chilly air and wished he was safe in his quarters.

* * *

_Alien Planet:_

_Nightfall_

Reed was disappointed that only a few weapons made the journey. Six phase pistols and three pulse rifles tallied the entire emergency armory. He cautioned the sentries to keep their eyes open. Fearing that woodland creatures might be drawn to the scent of blood, he made his way to the Medical area, where Dr. Andie was just still working by the dim light of a portable lantern. She dismissed the last crewman and waved him over with a weary smile.

"I was just beginning to think that you were going to try and duck out of my examination," Andie chuckled without humor. "I'm glad I don't have to drag you over here by your ears." Involuntarily she sighed and prepared to carry out yet another exam like she had performed so many times already today. She began with the handheld medical scanner.

"You seem to be handling all this rather well," Reed remarked, silently taking note of the unregistered pistol that rested against her thigh, covered by the green tunic she still wore. She seemed much calmer than she had in the pod; work soothed her. He wondered how long her pistol would last.

"Can't change the facts," Andie grunted, rolling her head around on her neck to ease the tense muscles there. "Fact is we're going to spend the night down here." She tilted his head back and forth to check for neck injuries.

"We'll spend more than a night," Reed snorted watching her work. T'Pol was the most graceful person he'd ever seen, seeming to float on air when she walked, but Andie gave the Vulcan a run for her money in fluid movements.

"I know," Andie said quickly, darting a look at the ensign nearby.

"The escape pods were only designed with directional thrusters," Malcolm went on, oblivious.

"Yeah, I know," Andie tried again to head him off with a wave of her hand as though his words didn't matter and he didn't have to finish.

"They can't possibly push the pods through the atmosphere, especially with a gravitational pull as strong as this planet has..." He was deep in thought about the myriad details of their predicament.

"Ensign Black, you've been a great help today!" Andie spoke just a bit louder to drown out Reed's words. "Why don't you get yourself a ration pack and find yourself a bunk?"

Ian Black stared at Reed for a long moment. Shaking his curly head to clear the trance, he merely nodded at the doctor and shoved his hands into his pockets before trudging away in the dark.

Reed realized too late that she had been trying to keep the dire circumstances from her med-tech. "They're officers, not children," he spoke quietly at last to Andie's annoyance. "You can't protect them from this."

"I can sure as hell try," the woman smiled bitterly. She looked down at her scanner. "You've got a little phase burn," she noted. Bending down, she picked up a thin tube of cream and pressed a small amount into the skin at the apex of his thumb and forefinger, rubbing it in softly. He hadn't intended to stop by for an exam, only to check on the woman's armaments, but the tender skin heated by the repeated firing of a phase pistol was soothed with her gentle touch.

"You should get a ration pack, too," he suggested.

"I will," she promised without enthusiasm. "It's hard to get excited about warm peanut butter in a tube."

"I think they are beef supplements," he remarked.

"Tastes like warm peanut butter squeezed out of a soft pouch," she insisted with a wry grin.

Malcolm couldn't disagree with that. Since their conversation seemed to be going so well he tired another topic. "I'm sorry about your cats," he remarked, feeling hypocritical due to his dislike of her companions. Come to think of it, he hadn't really seen her without one or the other since they'd come on board, except for their sword play in the gym. "If I'd known, we could have spent some time looking..."

"Don't worry about it," Andie stopped him short. "You never liked them anyway. Don't pretend that you're concerned now."

Her cool tone brought a deeper chill to the evening air. "I guess your days of propositioning me inappropriately are over," Malcolm remarked, trying to reverse her temper. There was a brief flare of pain when she remembered the felines left behind that made her soft; it humanized her when she was often content to play games and argue. He hated to see it leave.

At the reminder of her suggestiveness, Andie actually flushed, although it was hard to tell by the bleak light of the lantern. "We were about to die. It seemed like the thing to do."

"I'll make sure to keep a closer eye on you in the future," he responded blandly, thinking to prevent these near-death experiences in order to put a stop to the flirting, which he rather enjoyed. If only she was free to be flirtatious, he thought. It was her quick jerk of surprise that brought heat to Malcolm's cheeks. "To keep you from dying...feeling like you're going to die...not that I would put you in the..." Afraid his first statement might imply that he wanted her to proposition him again, which was certainly not the case, not when she was spending so much time with the engineer, he tried to backtrack. At least she grinned at him instead of complaining to her boyfriend.

As though the mere thought produced him from the darkness, their conversation was interrupted by the commander in question. Once again Reed felt his face flushing at being caught too close to the doctor, but Trip did nothing more than offer a cursory nod.

"I hear there's a doctor threatening to hunt me down," Tucker joked tiredly.

"Pull up a chair," Andie directed him to an overturned log nearby. "I'm done with you, Reed." There wasn't time to be incensed at her casual dismissal of him. "Where the hell's your bandage?" she demanded of Tucker, pointing at the hand that had sustained chemical burns on the _Xhardin._

"I couldn't very well perform repairs on the engine with all that gauze," he argued easily.

"It wasn't for you to decide to remove," she rebutted with a counterfeit scowl. "Now I'm going to have to wrap you in a body cast!"

The voices drifted away as Reed took steps further away from the presumed lovers. Her calm acceptance of their fate was at odds with the way she fought against everything else. She would have stayed behind to find her cats even if it meant remaining on the ship with those creatures! He shook his head. She was a woman of extreme contradictions.

Reed tilted his head to acknowledge the captain, still sitting near his pod with a lethargic beagle napping with its head on his knee. The captain barely nodded in acknowledgment; his eyes were focused on the doctor, who was still smiling at the southern gentleman. Archer was waiting for his moment.

Once Andie released the engineer, this time without gauze on his burned hand, she picked up a scanner and a small medical kit and wandered through the landing site. The intense attention of the captain had not gone unnoticed by her. She paused when she was standing before the captain. "You were wounded," she nodded at the thin trickle of dried blood on his temple.

"It wasn't serious," he answered.

"You don't get to decide that," she reminded him gently. The machine whirred to life and she studied the readings.

"You know how bad it is?" He kept his voice low.

"No concussion but you must have one hell of a headache," she noted, pulling a hypo out of her pocket.

"I meant our situation," he affirmed with a touch of irritation. It wasn't just his head that ached; everything did, not just the hip that had struck the chair on the bridge or the hands that stung from using a phase pistol. He was beginning to feel every minute of his age.

"I know what you meant. The pods can't fly out of the atmosphere and the interference of the debris field is prohibiting a distress signal to Starfleet."

She sounded calm and he hated her for that. "How can you act so normally? Doesn't this upset you? We were thrown off our ship!" In spite of the way his head still rang with the impossibility of their situation, he kept his voice low and just hissed in her direction.

Andie pondered the question quite seriously. "This is my…fourth shipwreck, I think," she decided. "We have landed on a habitable planet. We have not suffered a death toll. We have rations and shelter. Already this crash is better than…like…half of my others."

"The odds are overwhelming." he muttered. "This isn't even a technological planet!" Jon dropped his damaged head into his hands without care and winced at the low throb of pain.

"I've always found it a satisfying challenge to beat the odds. It's not about using technology that exists on this planet; it's about finding a way to make our technology work for us down here."

"How can you be so upbeat?" It was appalling really, the rose-colored glasses she kept firmly on her nose at a time like this. He could practically feel one hundred pairs of eyes seeking him out in the semi-darkness, waiting for him to lead them into the light when the only salvation he'd ever known had just been overrun with space frogs.

"Because there is no alternative," she spoke gravely. "This is not about choosing whether to get off the planet or colonize it; this is just about getting off the planet. There is no other alternative. Tomorrow we'll think of a way to make that happen."

"Thank you, Miss Scarlett," he snarled. The sarcasm was lost on her since her face remained blank so he tried to elaborate. "Scarlett O'Hara? _Gone With the Wind_? 'I'll think about that tomorrow?'" He sighed heavily at her baffled expression. "I'll tell Trip to educate you on the classics," he muttered.

Andie studied his dejected posture. "For an arrogant man, I would have thought you'd be made of sterner stuff," she commented idly.

Now he was exasperated again. "There's a difference between arrogant and confident, Doctor!"

"I know," she smirked. "But at the moment you don't even have overly confident working for you! Nothing's changed. The only difference in your status is that today you are not on board your ship. That's not so bad."

She was coming too close to the truth for his comfort. "We're trapped down here with nothing to help us, in case you hadn't noticed!" Now he was barking at her.

"You shouldn't allow your possessions to own you," she remarked.

"_Enterprise_ is not a possession! It's my home!" He forced his volume down. "It's all I have left of my father! I can't leave it behind the same way you left your cats! Those creatures needed you and you _left them_!" Even he knew it was a low blow; he just couldn't seem to close his mouth.

She withdrew from him, bringing a shutter down over her eyes before stepping away to put extra distance between them. "I think we're done here."

Jon wasn't finished though. "You can't run away from me the way you've spent your whole life running away from everything else! You're running out of room to run!" Even the index finger he was using to poke in her direction hurt to move. Everything hurt, including his heart.

Flipping the latches closed on the medical kit, she prepared to depart, ignoring the numbness in her chest. "Would you like a sedative to help you sleep tonight?"

"No!" he snarled. He didn't have to look around to see the faces of the crew, watching their leader fall apart. He was falling and there was no way to stop it. "Good night, Doctor."

"Archer," she tilted her head by way of acknowledgment. She moved through the darkness, stopping by T'Pol's pod and ducking inside after a courtesy knock.

Jon watched her go and wished her could call her back and apologize. Truth was he felt like a teenager about to be grounded for taking his dad's car out without permission and damaging it. He felt like Starfleet was going to show up any moment and tell him that he wasn't any good at this. They were going to take it all away.

Not even his old friend taking a seat next to him with a heavy sigh took away the panic that was creeping up into his head, like a scream from a long distance away.

"Don't you think you were kinda hard on her?" Trip asked quietly.

"She has no respect," Archer sighed. This was not a good time to have this conversation. On board his ship whenever he felt suffocated by prying eyes he retired to his cabin and enjoyed the silence and the isolation. Down here there was no solitary space. Down here they were all in this together. Nowhere to run and nowhere to breathe; just bound together in the most horrendous situation he could ever imagine.

"I'll talk to her in the morning," Archer acquiesced even though Trip had said nothing further. They remained that way, sitting on the log as the darkness swallowed the world before them.

* * *

_Alien Planet:_

_Late night_

The crew bunked down uneasily in their escape pods. There was an unaccustomed chill in the fresh air and no ship's EV controls to regulate it. There were sounds of things that scrambled around in the dark and no solid bulkheads to protect them. There were unimagined odors which the sanitized environment of a starship had kept from them. Even their captain was on edge as he paced around his pod, causing nerves to fray. The strangeness kept them on edge, even those few who managed to get some sleep.

Andie had retired to her escape pod. She sat in the seat nearest the door, wrapped in a wool blanket. Henry Bowman slept peacefully with his head in her lap while she idly stroked his hair in an unconsciously maternal movement. She sat quietly and hardly made a sound although her eyes remained wide open all night. Reed had given up his seat inside to Crewman Moreno and his injured leg, intending to keep all the seriously injured as close to the doctor as possible, but he remained nearby, keeping watch by staring intently into the dark, daring anything to set foot in camp without warning.

Deep in the night the uneasy stillness was ruptured by the sharp cry of a woman in the dark. Reed was instantly alert. So was Andie, laying Henry's head on the bench and springing out the door to lay a hand on Malcolm's sleeve as he prepared to move closer to the sound. "Don't go out there!"

"Somebody's in trouble!" he insisted.

"Some_body_ or some predator that _sounds like_ somebody?" she dogged him.

"You don't _know_ there are predators!" he countered

"You don't know there _aren't_!" she retorted.

"I can take care of myself, thank you very much!" It pleased him a little to throw her favorite phrase back in her face, even if he had immediate feelings of guilt for picking on her after the captain had been so abrupt. He signaled a handful of MACO's to follow him into the woods surrounding the landing site.

They picked their way through the uneven terrain in the dead of night, cursing the low hanging branches and the slippery footing. The unfamiliar forest was harder to negotiate than it looked. Data screens glowed blue in the darkness; flashlights lit up patches of earth and brush. Reed found the first clue, a deep impression in the dirt. The data pad estimated an 86 chance that it was made by a large animal of unknown origin, possibly of the large cat variety. That was spectacularly unhelpful as Reed was able to determine that much himself. The doctor had a point; they didn't know what lived and hunted in these woods. No sign of struggle or blood could be found so Malcolm was forced to admit that it may have been nothing more than a predator moving through the forest that they'd heard. He brought the scouting party back to camp, Parsons aiding Woods who had turned his ankle in the dark.

Andie met them in front of her medical pod and checked his injury. She declared it to be a twist and offered an analgesic for the pain, telling him to rest with his foot up. Not once did she shoot a triumphant look at Reed or insinuate that she had been correct. Malcolm could appreciate that.

There wasn't any chance of sleep after the ruckus. Everyone lounged in their seats with eyes and ears wide open. Nervous conversation rustled tersely in the dark whenever the wind blew through the trees. Tension rose like a dark cloud over the terrified group. Someone sobbed quietly in obscurity. Whispers gathered on the wind and then a more familiar sound took precedence.

Somebody was singing. It was a song that few recognized; a Vulcan desert dirge commenting on the flat sands and intense heat of the Forge during the march of Surak. At first Security was annoyed at the sound; it blanketed any sounds that might be prowling forward. But those who had nothing to do but wait for dawn also had nothing better to do than listen. T'Pol, like the other senior officers, stood in her portal and tilted her head to better hear the music. Her fine ears could pick out the direction and distance of the singer. She would have gone to put a stop to the doctor's song, but behind her Hoshi Sato sighed and tilted her head back against the seat, tightening her arms around Crewman Cutler, who was happy to cuddle with her friend for comfort. The two women stopped fidgeting for the first time since the night had enveloped the camp. The first officer hoped that others would derive comfort from the old song and she listened until the camp began to settle.

When the dirge was done another song took its place, something considered 'an oldie' from Earth's history. A few toes tapped the beat. A few mouths echoed the nearly forgotten words. Music kept the fear at bay. Songs united them together and gave them something to consider, other than their imminent demise. The predators did not return and most of the crew fell into a fitful and uncomfortable sleep as the dawn struggled to come once more.

* * *

_Alien Planet:_

_Dawn, Day One_

As light illuminated the world it became more and more amazing that not a single person had been lost to the treacherous terrain to which they clung. Their pods had scattered across a distance on the side of a mountain that rose and fell in sharp points and valleys around them. The rock itself was slippery smooth, but there were plenty of trees that looked like firs, and brush that prickled like manzanita and globs of dry lichen that clung to their corner of the earth. Needles covered the dry earth at their feet, and a scent that was reminiscent of pine hung in the air.

Familiarity ended there. The sky overhead was thick and tinged red, as though low clouds blocked out the sun, and the result was a rusty red light that seeped under their eyelids like blood. Despite their close quarters most shivered in the chill that pervaded the air. The colors were bland and tree and earth blended into one another. It was not a particularly nice place to wake up, and the dreariness was only enhanced by the deep silence outside.

The night had been long and fraught with tensions but the captain had decided that he would face this day with more aplomb than he had faced it last night. After stretching his tired limbs, he snapped a leash on his dog and wandered through camp. Jon found the one he sought on top of her escape pod, resting cross-legged with her eyes closed as she faced out across the rocky landscape. She appeared to be meditating. Jon coughed discreetly to announce his presence.

"Doesn't it look like a dirt city skyline?" she asked quietly without opening her eyes.

One peek at the sharp and treacherous horizon did nothing to present a picture of a cityscape in Jon's eye. "Walk with me," he commanded.

He didn't wait for her to climb down, just tugged on the beagles' leash and started off in a direction that assumed a path and she soon caught up to him. Porthos led the pair up the hill, happy to anoint every bush within range as he eagerly sniffed the new and different scents.

"I suppose you have some suggestions about how to handle all this?" Jon started irritably. His back ached and his eyes burned with dryness and he hadn't slept well at all.

"Put one foot in front of the other," Andie suggested unhelpfully, springing up the path with the vitality of one much younger than the captain.

"Not the trail!" he burst out. "The predicament we're in!" Her vigor put him in a foul mood when he was trying not to be.

"I keep hearing how you've got the best crew that Earth can offer; why do you need my input?" She panted as she scurried up an especially steep incline.

"You're been shipwrecked before!" At least her lack of breath soothed his ego.

"Today I'm an observer." She took a few more steps and looked over the valley that stretched out far away behind them. "I'm looking forward to the experience. There are those that say you were the wrong man to lead Earth into space. I'm curious to see your skills in action."

"Who says I'm wrong?" he stopped and demanded, hating the sweat that trickled down his back.

She shrugged. "Not everybody likes you, Jon." It wasn't an attack; just a statement of fact.

Jon ground his teeth. "Do you have any suggestions for me or not?"

Andie continued to climb. "What does your emergency training suggest?"

"Only the basics," he grunted, tugging Porthos back onto the path.

"What's the protocol for this situation?"

"I've read the protocols! I'm looking for some personal experience!"

"I helped write the protocols. They are the result of my personal experience." She patted him on the shoulder. "Let me know how they work out."

"Reed said we need food, water and shelter."

"If your tactical officer presents you with advice and you have your ship's protocols at hand, why are you pestering me?" He didn't have to see her face to see her roll her eyes. Porthos leaped ahead of him and nearly pulled the leash out of his master's hand.

"I just thought you might want to be involved!" They reached a flat place and paused to breathe.

"I'm here. That makes me involved, no matter what might feelings might be." She took a few more steps. "You ever wonder why you are so determined to make everybody like you?"

"You ever wonder why you buck against authority?" he countered snidely.

"I usually have more experience than people higher in rank, and I generally know better than they do. It tends to read as bucking authority."

"Now you're the one who's arrogant and overly confident," he retorted.

Instead of making her angry, she smirked. Taking a deep breath, she stopped toying with him. "You need to keep the crew safe. You'll need to find a campsite; something that is both comfortable and defensible. You'll need to keep the crew healthy; that means a steady supply of food and water. And you'll need to give them something to look forward to; offer them a plan for the future. People who have no hope are dangerous."

"That's what Malcolm said," Archer muttered, making mental notes.

Andie grew exasperated. "If your Tactical Officer gave you such great advice, then I ask you again; why are you bothering me?"

That was something Archer wasn't sure he could answer. _Reed worked hard and earned top marks but there was nothing in his record to indicate his knowledge about a life or death struggle._ "I needed a second opinion," he answered vaguely. "This is your fourth 'wreck after all. I thought you might have some experience to add."

"Excellent! I love to be a lab rat!" she huffed. She bent down and toyed with the dog's ears for a minute. "When you send out search parties, make sure they are in groups of no less than three. You'll need at least two from security and one science crewman to make sure there aren't bugs or funky plants." Her hands gestured vaguely at the sharp grasses and prickly bushes around them.

"We have to worry about…funky plants?" It was something he hadn't considered, that the world that saved them might be out to get them in a different way. He was suddenly concerned as he remembered the hallucinogenic pollen, the shape-shifting wraiths and the unstoppable genetic rewriting virus that had plagued other planets he'd stepped on.

"Only the ones I brought with me," she winked playfully.

Jon had no idea if she was serious or not. He looked at her more closely. "Is that what you were wearing when you stepped off the pod?"

She glanced down at her heavy gray pants and dark turtleneck. "No," she admitted. "I took the tour bus to the local shopping mall to look for something more fashionable. I also picked up a lava lamp and a disco ball. We're going to party tonight." Her deadpan delivery only made his eyes narrow.

"You lingered on board a devastated vessel to pick up a change of clothing?" He really couldn't believe it. His hard won even-temper was beginning to slip away.

"No, I stayed to search for my cats," she retorted. "You know those things that I abandoned when they needed me? They weren't in my quarters and I picked up my survival kit before I continued the search."

"You took the time to pack a bag?"

"No, I always keep a survival kit packed and resting beside my door. You never know when you might need one." She sounded annoyed.

For all that the words sounded like a sarcastic joke, Jon didn't think they were. He thought about the life she'd lived through and wondered what kind of an impact it must have had on her psyche. Paranoia was the least of her bad habits. _Could this happen to him in time? Would he become untrusting and suspicious of everything around him? How did a person know when a little paranoia was too much?_

A noise caught his ear and he saw a group of crewmen climbing the narrow trail behind them. "Thanks for the walk, Doc," Jon growled, dismissing the female and tugging at Porthos' leash and dragging him further up the hill, ignoring the muscles that cried out for rest.

Andie watched him go dispassionately. She waved at Commander Tucker as he passed and suggested that he follow the captain up the hill. "I'm going to pretend those emergency rations taste like pancakes," she grinned. The smile felt like it would crack her brittle face, but she kept the gleaming vision until the rest of the group had passed her by. With a heavy sigh, she made her way back to the crash site.

* * *

_Alien Planet: _

_Mid-morning, Day One_

Camp wasn't hard to find. A couple kilometers straight up the rocky path the search parties found a clearing. It was a little smaller than they'd hoped for, but not excessively crowded. Rocky hillsides rose upward on opposite sides to form a sort of cradle and the other two sides sloped downwards; one of which was a sheer rock wall that was so smooth and straight not even a mountain goat could climb. The fourth direction led downhill through a crowd of trees and brush at a slightly gentler angle. With a few precautions nobody could approach them without warning, and there was even a narrow stream that trickled through a rock formation a few dozen meters away.

"It's got all the qualifications. There's even a little cover from the trees." Archer waved his hands around and waited for that second opinion.

"It seems fine to me," Andie circled around. "Did Science verify the plant life in the area?"

"Caffrey and T'Pol both agreed that there was minimal chance of contamination. MACO's are scouting the distance to native settlements. It looks like there's an actual castle in that direction, but we'd be hidden by the woods up here." He was pointing at the soft upward slope past the trickle of a stream.

Andie looked at him. "So if it's all right with Science and Security, what am I doing up here?"

He stared her down. "I thought as our resident crash expert, you might be interested in the final stamp of approval."

"Consider it stamped. Would you like a prize?" she inquired sweetly. Drawing a deep breath, she moved to the outer edge and starting drawing a line in the dirt with the heel of her boot. "Drop the first pod here. This is the new Medical Ward."

He gritted his teeth against her bossy tone and waved to the others to begin relocation.

* * *

_Alien Planet: _

_Early evening, Day One_

At the end of their first full day on this world, they had made good progress with their camp. Groups were sent to take samples of the water supply and clear brush and debris from the wide open area. Rocks were selected to line a series of fire pits, tents were unpacked, supplies were inventoried; it was a busy day for everybody, and most were grateful for a reason to keep busy.

Twelve of the twenty-three pods released from the ship had been moved to the site by virtue of their thrusters and arranged at the outer edge of the clearing. In groups of three they were connected with their interlocking clamps, forming four neat corners to the camp site. In the event of an attack, people would take cover behind the angled pods for safety. Nine others were scatted in among the corners to demark the exterior edges of the camp, leaving space to walk between them.

Two of the pods were damaged beyond repair. They were causing Trip headaches. Damage to their thrusters made it impossible to maneuver them even the short distance to the campsite. Several of the healthy pods were being used to tow the mutilated ones to the site by tying long cables to the top and lifting them to the right place. It was dangerous and exhausting work, accomplished largely by communicator relay and guesswork. The sun was setting as they settled the last of the damaged pods on the ground just outside of the cleared area.

"We'll shift 'em into position tomorrow," Trip sighed with weariness. He looked over at the pod where Chef and his staff had started to make ration packs available. "I'd sure like a long hot shower before dinner," he said wistfully.

"We'll start on that tomorrow too, sir," Mayweather sighed with equal weariness. The navigators had all been busy today as they piloted the pods to the desired locations. "Permission to grab some grub, sir?"

"Go ahead, Travis," Trip waved him ahead. The damage to the pods had him worried. _There's no way they could ever get off this world if the pods didn't function. Who was he kidding? They weren't getting off this world._ He had to start looking at the pods as long term long preservers.

"Commander, you look like you could use an analgesic."

He looked up to see Andie standing in the doorway of the medical tent.

Tiredly he forced his feet to her side. "I could use a hot meal too," he tried to joke.

"Here," she pushed a crate closer to him. "Sit down before you fall down."

Wishing he felt like objecting, he simply slumped onto the make-shift bench. Moving behind him, she fastened her hands on his neck and began to squeeze his muscles gently.

"What the hell are you doin'?" he yelped, jumping to his feet.

"I'm administering some first aid," she told him. "Sit!"

"I don't need a massage!" he countered, trying to lower his voice, realizing that the close quarters were insufficient to hide his voice from the rest of the camp, especially at this volume.

"Give me sixty seconds," she bargained. "If it's not working, I'll leave you alone."

Suspiciously he sat again, flinching when she touched him. Another medical professional, not so long ago, prescribed something like this for his ailments and that didn't work out so well for him. To his discontent, the soothing rhythm felt wonderful as she rubbed away the tight, sore muscles in his shoulders and neck.

"You're off duty, right?" she asked.

"Hmm? Yeah, sort of," he grunted.

"Here, drink this."

He took the mug she offered and sipped. Hot coffee laced with whiskey burned down his throat and he sputtered. "What's in this?"

"I carry a flask in my survival kit," she answered in a low voice. "For medicinal purposes of course," she hastened to reassure him.

"Archer doesn't know about it, does he?"

"I don't need to clear all my medicines with the captain. Sometimes he's happier not knowing," she answered lightly, continuing to rub gently.

After the day he'd had, Trip wasn't about to argue. "Don't over medicate," he grumbled, sipping slowly. There was only a small amount of liquid in the cup, not enough to intoxicate him but enough to make him relax slightly. That was probably her intention when she handed it to him; he decided to allow himself to relax slightly.

"If you're feeling better," she broke in, "I have some suggestions for tomorrow." She slipped a data pad into his hand and took the empty mug away.

"Why don't you run 'em by the Cap'n?" he wondered, feeling the weight in his chest as he contemplated waking up in this nightmare tomorrow.

"The captain doesn't always appreciate suggestions that come from me," she replied carefully.

"Maybe that's because you're a pain in his ass," Trip responded somewhat abruptly. He was tired and getting short tempered yet he felt like he couldn't stop the anger that threatened to erupt.

"Quite possibly," she agreed amiably, hoping to forestall the tension that was seeping back into his voice. "But that doesn't mean that all my suggestions are bad ones."

"What kind of suggestions?" he sighed, tossing the pad on the ground without looking at it.

She noted the action with frustration but tried to keep her voice calm. "I have some suggestions for a latrine," she began. "We don't want to contaminate our own campsite, especially if we're going to be here for a while."

That wasn't surprising information. T'Pol had already suggested it and Archer had sent the directive along to the chief engineer. _Just one more item on a very long list_, he thought.

"You want hot and cold running water too?" he snapped.

"Not at first," she replied easily. He turned his face away so she couldn't see him frown.

"What else do you think I can do for you?" he questioned churlishly.

"I think a buddy system should be mandated. We're in unknown territory and it wouldn't do for anyone to go wandering off by themselves, not even the captain."

"Aha!" he pointed a finger in the air. "That's why you're not taking your suggestions to the captain!" He swiveled around to talk to her face to face. "You know he won't want a body guard."

"I think it's important for the captain more than anybody to have somebody at his side to keep him out of trouble," she countered, losing some of the polite ease she'd been using till now.

"The captain can take care of himself!" Trip countered.

"He was taken hostage in a Tandaran military camp and again with Reed in a pre-warp society where they attempted to execute them both. He pissed off the Andorians, the Klingons and the Vulcans who were our allies, and that was just in his first year! He nearly lost his life in the Expanse when he went to deliver a suicide bomb and again when he went to destroy the Xindi ball."

"He came out alive!" Trip protested.

"He's reckless!" she countered. "He charges in and doesn't think about the consequences until it's too late!"

"And you think about consequences?" he snorted. "Like this afternoon when Archer caught you standin' on top of an escape pod while Travis navigated it straight up the sheer rock face to the new site? One good breeze would'a knocked you off!"

"Doubtful," she waved away his protests. "It was a lot like surfing. You just need to keep your balance until you reach the shore, or in our case, until we are rescued." Even she could recognize that the metaphor went awry and scrunched up her face trying to figure out where.

"We aren't getting' rescued!" he shouted, jumping up and facing her. "We're stuck down here with no way to reach our ship! It's entirely possible that we're going to die down here!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" she snapped. "We've set up a transponder and there's bound to be someone along shortly."

"The transponder's not working!" he blurted out. "That graviton field is blocking our signal! Nobody is coming to get us!"

"Then we'll have to get out of here on our own!" she stated firmly.

"There's no getting out of here! We don't have a ship!"

"We have twenty of them, give or take a couple," she pointed out, looking at the small pods.

"We can't use the escape pods! They were designed with a small engine to get us to the surface of a planet safely in the event of an emergency! They don't have enough power to break through the atmosphere above us! We'll never get out into space!"

"You're an engineer! Build a bigger engine!" She directed stubbornly.

"Oh, sure! I'll just hop down to the local trade center and whip us up some dilithium crystals and a couple warp engines! Won't take but a minnit!" He held up one hand. "No, it dunnit work like that! You can't take little engines and make a bigger one! I would never presume to replace the hole in your head where your brains should be with a sliver off your big toe!"

Her muttered retort that her big toe wouldn't fit in her big ole brain was interrupted by an angry third party. "What the hell is going on?"

The two blond heads turned to find the captain glaring at them both. Behind him they could see several personnel sitting with emergency ration plates on their knees trying to enjoy a lukewarm dinner with their eyes as wide open as their ears must have been a moment ago. Heat flushed both their cheeks.

"We're having a conversation, Cap'n," Trip replied weakly.

"You're discussing our fate at the top of your lungs?" Jon inquired, melting Trip with the rigid fury of his gaze. Andie simply scowled in the background, not at all swayed by his anger. "Perhaps you'd like to step outside and kick a few crewmembers just to make sure everyone was paying attention?"

"Tucker was just telling me he felt frustrated, Jon. I was just telling him to get his head out of his ass and get us off this rock. I guess we got carried away." She turned to Trip. "Perhaps you shouldn't skip mealtimes in the future." She beamed at him as though her query into his health had not been the reason they started this conversation in the first place.

The dirty look Trip sent her way should have peeled the paint off the walls behind her.

Archer was at a loss. He couldn't send the combatants to their rooms. He couldn't make the crew unhear what they just heard. And worst of all, he couldn't threaten to throw Andie off his ship.

"If I hear one more disparaging remark about our chances, I'm going to take some severe action," he growled ferociously. "Go get some dinner, Trip, and then get some sleep! We'll talk more in the morning!" He waited until Trip brushed past him and out the door. "I won't tolerate any more disruptions on this mission," he told Andie with quiet intensity. "When we get out of here, I'll have you removed from my ship." He spoke those last lines loud enough to carry to a few ears out there, hoping they would spread his optimism on to the others.

Andie shrugged without concern. "Sure," she agreed.

"That doesn't bother you?" he asked, feeling anger welling up in his chest.

She stepped closer and spoke softly. "I can see it in your eyes; you don't actually believe we'll get out of this. So, no, it doesn't bother me." She lifted her chin. "If the captain doesn't believe it, it certainly can't be true." Sweeping past him she headed for the chow line too.

Jon wished he could refute her words, but she may have hit too close to home. He knew they were stranded down here. They were stranded and nobody would ever know what happened to him.

"Everything all right?" Malcolm inquired as the engineer joined him in the meal line.

"Everything's just peachy keen," Trip sighed.

He didn't elaborate and Malcolm didn't want to pry. There seemed to be trouble in paradise. Reed certainly didn't think he was qualified to offer any kind of relationship advice, and his friend hadn't asked for any. As he pushed his mashed potatoes around his ration tray, he questioned the relief he felt. Obviously he didn't want his friend to get dumped, but perhaps the wild doctor needed a steadier hand to guide her. The thoughts he refused to speak out loud kept gnawing at his insides, long after Trip began snoring next to him in the little blue tent.

It was another long night.


	6. Chapter 6

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 6

* * *

_Alien Planet_

_Human Campsite, Day Two_

Reed was awake by dawn. He didn't sleep well on the best of occasions, and this situation could hardly be termed first-class. Dressing for the day provided its own difficulties; there was no shower and no way to shine his boots. Morning ablutions involved cupping a palm of water from his canteen and splashing it over his head. Brushing his hair was done with damp fingers. All in all it was an unpleasant beginning to the day. _At least there were shaving kits_, he rejoiced silently, passing a hand over his smooth jaw. He looked over at his companion and decided against waking Commander Tucker. After a long and stressful day, his pal had been drawn into an argument with his girl and both had received a stern but short lecture from the captain. A little more sleep might do his friend some good.

Carefully pulling the zipper so it wouldn't wake the sleeping man, Malcolm slipped out of the little tent and into the dreary dawn. The sky was still awash with dim, red light and the air tasted gritty in his mouth. There were few others around and Malcolm felt safe enough to stretch out his arms and legs and let loose a wide jaw-cracking yawn. His yawn halted in mid-groan as he spotted something across the campsite. With a huff he dropped his arms and headed in that direction.

Jonathan Archer stood with his feet at shoulder-width apart, staring at the creation with his arms crossed over his chest. He glanced over as the lieutenant arrived and greeted him with a laid-back, "Mornin', Malcolm." It hadn't been a very good night for the captain either. He slept in an escape pod thinking the solid walls would keep out the restless sounds of a hundred people, but the bunk was too small and his feet hung off the end, and Porthos insisted on lying on his chest and he woke up with a face full of beagle fur. Physical discomforts aside, the respite in solitary had allowed him to tamp down his frustrations in peace. He felt he could face the day and begin creating a colony on this barren, dusty, wasted rock, even if the thought of living here hit him like a punch in the gut.

"Good morning, sir," Malcolm greeted his commander. "What's this?" He gestured before him.

"I believe this is the medical tent," Archer answered, studying the structure critically.

Dr. Andie had insisted that two pods be used for medical purposes. Unlike the other habitats that opened directly into the center clearing she had turned the doors toward each other, about a meter apart. She took an unused tent, cut slits in the sides and creatively positioned the remaining fabric across tent poles to create an arc that stretched over the two doorways, creating an antechamber between the pods. The structure seemed sufficient to keep out both sun and possibly rain. Crates of medical supplies were stacked at the rear and proved useful for both insulation and seating. A camp stove stood in the center of the small pavilion and several broken conduits were salvaged for a chimney. The medical tent was now a three-room suite and quite cozy.

"I think she missed her calling as a decorator," Malcolm muttered approvingly. A quick peek into one pod door showed the med-techs asleep on narrow bunks and the other pod offered a cramped but private exam room. The doctor was not in residence.

"She really has a gift for this, doesn't she?" Archer sighed. He rubbed the area between his eyebrows. He wondered if there was something in the medical kits that could take away the hollow feeling in his chest as quickly as they took away his headaches.

"She's very creative," Malcolm acknowledged.

"I've been yelling at her for two days and she's just calmly getting by with no problems at all!" Archer's voice trailed away. It wasn't fair; she seemed to thrive on chaos and fear.

Malcolm couldn't let that go. "You didn't see her in the escape pod, sir. She's not calm at all. She's just hiding it better under all that bluster."

That shouldn't make Jon feel better, but it did. "She told me that I don't believe we'll ever get off this rock." Archer pushed away his aches and faced the other man with resolve. "What do you think are our chances, Mr. Reed?"

"This is a fine crew and you are a resourceful captain, sir," Malcolm offered stiffly. For all his concerns about Archer's fits of temper, the man did have a habit of getting the job done. He'd accomplished things that Malcolm hadn't expected from one so unfamiliar with military regulations. "We'll figure it out, Captain," he assured him, feeling awkward at the unaccustomed pep talk with his superior.

Jon processed that for a moment. "I'd like to join the scouting party this morning," he changed the subject.

"Yes, sir," Malcolm nodded calmly. Inwardly he sighed. Archer may be a good captain, but he had a knack for getting into trouble. Reed would never make such a statement to the commanding officer though. If Malcolm could just hold himself together, focus on his duty to keep the crew safe better than he'd kept the ship safe, everything would be okay. He was already hanging on by his fingernails though.

"Let's get some breakfast first." Archer led the way out of the Medical Tent and Malcolm followed him to the busy fire pit where Chef was fussing over a pot of something that burbled. It turned out to be oatmeal, a bowl of which made Malcolm groan silently. There were meager servings of both sugar and salt for the concoction, but there was plenty of coffee boiled deep in the hot ash of the roaring fire to blister the taste of oats out of their mouths. Jon and Malcolm shared a dubious raised eyebrow before digging in. Trip joined them about thirty minutes later, looking pretty groggy as though there hadn't been enough hours in the night and grunting his way through hellos. He'd been up late, working with a data pad to refresh his memory on the emergency systems of the infrequently used escape pods.

There were few other crewmen awake at this hour, and those that were preferred to take their breakfasts back to their own fires. It seemed that in the absence of their ship, many were taking advantage of their light duties and sleeping late. Archer didn't have the heart to wake them just yet.

T'Pol showed up just as the threesome had settled around on logs and rocks around a fire pit. To the surprise of the men, she was followed by Dr. Andie. Neither had come from their tents. Instead they had trudged carefully down the steep boulder-choked hillside that rose behind the Medical Tent. The Vulcan headed straight for the captain but Reed watched Andie stop to place a hand on the shoulder of the head chef and whisper something in his ear that caused his tense face to relax into an expression that was almost a smile.

"You're up early," Trip grunted as he shoveled a spoonful of plain oatmeal into his mouth and tried to swallow it down. He was feeling worn out and the day was barely started. It was irksome that T'Pol looked as fresh and alert as she did. There was something different about her today. She wore a cap of pale pink yarn over her head, covering her pointed ears in the chilly morning air and pulled off a pair of matching pink mittens to accept her bowl of breakfast.

"I woke early and wished to meditate. The doctor was the only person awake at that hour and she accompanied me to the height of that hill," T'Pol indicated, sitting down beside Archer and nodding at the other two men as a greeting. "The view is splendid from the top. I was able to meditate for an hour or so."

"I think it was almost two hours, T'Pol," Andrea broke in, plopping herself down on the ground near Reed and Tucker with a fresh cup of coffee without waiting for an invitation. "I had time to finish some knitting and outline a few protocols for her attention. I thought she might want to present them to the captain."

Jon raised an eyebrow but remained silent. Her mood was definitely improved, even if she was talking about him as though he wasn't sitting right in front of her.

"You found knitting materials?" Malcolm queried lightly. He'd correctly guessed where.

"It's my survival kit and I can't live without it," Andie reminded him with a twinkle in her eye.

Trip snuck another peek at T'Pol's new hat. Andie had obviously made the skull cap to keep her Vulcan ears warm. The pink was a pretty color against her brown hair and the vague green tint of her skin, like the contrast of bright berries on a vine. He buried his face back in his bowl of oatmeal and cursed his lack of sleep. He would have cursed the sun too, if it could struggle its way through the dirty sky to shine.

"I believe we decided that you should present your thoughts to the captain yourself," T'Pol reminded the physician. One dark eyebrow swept up under the pink hat as a silent prodding. It seemed to be conveying something particular to the physician.

"You have some more protocols for me?" Archer stared at the younger woman. She was still staring at the Vulcan, and didn't look at all chastised; despite the dressing down he'd given her yesterday.

"Just a few plans for the smooth operation of Starfleet Hollow," Andie grinned.

"Humans are convinced they have the right to name everything," T'Pol murmured in what sounded suspiciously like a joke.

Both females shared a look at that remark. Something must have occurred between them while they walked; no mention was made of it, although both seemed in good spirits as Andie reluctantly pulled a data pad out of her pocket.

"What plans might those be?" Reed inquired, sipping his boiled coffee and wishing for tea.

"Shouldn't you have consulted me before making improvements?" Archer demanded. He thought about Malcolm's insistence that Andie was not handling this development well, and looked for signs that she might be cracking under the pressure. Except for the dark circles that were present under her eyes as they were present under the eyes of every person in camp, there didn't seem to be any signs of stress. Unless her mouth was tighter than usual, he considered. He felt weird looking at a crewman's mouth.

"We are consulting you," T'Pol pointed out. "Please, continue."

The doctor shuffled her feet. "He'd probably like to hear it from you." She tried to offer the data pad to the first officer.

"Talk, Doc," Archer growled. For all his bluster the captain and all the senior officers spoke in civil, hushed tones. They looked rather companionable, sharing breakfast together.

Drawing a deep breath, she started speaking quickly as though afraid she might be interrupted. "I wanted to talk about implementing a buddy system. Nobody should go anywhere alone. Everybody ought to select another crewmate to spend their time with as long as we are here."

"You said that yesterday," Trip mumbled as he scraped the bottom of his bowl and eyed the good spirits of the doctor with some suspicion. Usually she was even less of a morning person than he was. The bitter coffee helped burn away the sleep that threatened to drag him back down in a stranglehold for a nap, but his new alertness just made him conscious of the alien woman sitting quietly across the fire. He hadn't had time to check on her since they landed, and now it seemed ridiculous to fuss over her. Actually if he was going to be truthful, he had made a point to be too busy. They were just friends now; that didn't mean he had to keep checking on her.

"It holds true today," Andie nodded enthusiastically. Clearly she wasn't holding onto the remnants of their tiff.

"That's a good idea," Jon responded slowly. _She had experience with this stuff_, he reminded himself.

"That includes the senior staff, and even you, Jon," Andie added.

"That's fine," Jon lifted his head and looked at Trip. "I'd like…"

"No two senior officers should be bound together for purposes of security," Andie interrupted, correctly interpreting the captain's intention.

"Security purposes?" he repeated. _Here she was trying to tie him at the hip to one of his crew and she had the audacity to tell him who it should be?_ The only thing more impudent than the suggestion was the reason, offered with the uncharacteristic good humor at this early hour.

"Let's say you pick T'Pol. You two take Porthos for a walk. You...oh, I don't know...get dizzy from the atmosphere and fall down a cliff. T'Pol is a good officer and she tries to rescue you. She falls down the cliff and dies too. Now there are ninety-one crewmen who are stranded on a strange planet, and they've lost their captain _and_ their first officer. That leaves these two in charge," she jerked her head at Reed and Tucker. "Do you know they are referred to by the crew in hushed tones as the 'Disaster Twins'? That's not a good scenario, Jon."

Try as he might he couldn't stop the snort of laughter; he could only choke it back. For the first time since he found a wreck floating in the stars, Archer looked down at his lap as he struggled to keep a straight face. From the time he picked them up on Risa half-naked to the time a self-replicating space station had dropped them back on the bridge for being nosy, to the far more recent and much less humorous act of taking his ship into the midst of war between the Andorians and the Vulcans, the series of events and oddities that occurred when Reed and Tucker got together passed through Archer's head.

Reed and Tucker themselves had been nodding along, exchanging amused glances at her ludicrous scenario regarding the captain and XO, but at this last pronouncement they froze in mid-eyebrow wag and yelped in protest.

"Hey! We're not always a disaster!"

"And we're hardly twins," Malcolm added facetiously. "I'm much more handsome." He couldn't restrain the chuckle when the other man spun back around to glare at him. "It's true," he solemnly assured his friend.

"You wish," the alleged lesser twin assured him dourly, smoothing back his tousled blond hair. His glare whipped around to Andie. "Who called us a disaster?" Trip demanded to know.

"Apparently it is commonly known," Andie assured him with a cheeky grin. "I heard the whispers several times yesterday. There's a betting pool to see who gets in deep first."

"And _your_ money's on?" Trip pressured her pointedly.

She looked at Trip and then Malcolm before smiling widely, and more importantly, silently.

Before this could degenerate into name-calling, Archer broke in with the more important matter. "So are you going to pick my buddy for me then?" he looked at Andie.

"Actually I have an idea about that, sir," Malcolm interrupted. "With your permission, Doctor? You mentioned security measures and..." She waved him ahead, bouncing her knee restlessly up and down. "I'd like to suggest Romero, sir," Reed finished quickly.

"A MACO?" Archer frowned.

"As the doctor just pointed out in the most..._colorful_...terms, you are the most important person to this expedition," Malcolm went on, choking slightly on that word.

"Second only to the Temporary Acting Chief Medical Officer," Andie muttered.

Malcolm ignored her. "You need somebody whose sole responsibility would be your safety. A MACO is ready and willing to make that commitment, and would sacrifice their life to protect you."

"Nobody needs to sacrifice anything for me," Jon grumbled. He didn't like all the nodding heads that supported the idea either. It made him wonder if the crew had any discreet thoughts about his Disaster Ratio. He started to mentally tally the times when he had suffered misfortune, but stopped after he ran out of fingers. And toes.

"Good choice," Andie nodded encouragingly.

"So glad you approve, Doctor," Malcolm went on with a smirk. "I have a suggestion for you as well."

Archer smirked. This time she was going to get a taste of her own medicine.

"Mackenzie," Dr. Brainerd stated out loud, beating Reed to the punch.

Reed deflated. "I thought you would prefer Corporal Parsons. You've been friendly."

"Probably not a good idea to spend all day with your friend," Andie rolled her eyes. "And Parsons will have to go out on patrol occasionally. She can't stay in camp with me and I can't go with her. As the commander of the MACO's Mackenzie will spend most of her time closer to home." She glanced at T'Pol "I think the pod next to the Medical Tent is an appropriate choice for MACO HQ, by the way." She turned back to Reed. "Mackenzie seems a more logical choice, but if she doesn't want the job, then by all means offer it to Parsons. Either marine would be acceptable." She sipped out of her mug as though being agreeable happened all the time.

Thinking she was far too cheerful and easy-going this morning, Trip leaned over to get a whiff of the material in her coffee cup, but all he could smell was thick, boiled coffee.

Malcolm was suspicious. "I didn't expect you to be so reasonable." She acquiesced to a marine body guard, but more than that, suggested that a group of them should bunk next door to her. He couldn't figure out what she was up to.

"I am delightful in moments when I'm right. Which I usually am," she deadpanned, trying to stifle a grin.

"Oh Mighty Matchmaker," Trip deflected the mild battle of wills. "Make me a match!" This was proving far more entertaining than it should be. The swift engulfing fear on the ship had given way to a bleak, cold, and desperate existence on this waning world. Laughter felt like it might break his brittle face into pieces, but it might be worth every crack.

"Mayweather," she immediately offered.

"He's a member of the senior staff," Archer objected.

"Yes, but can you imagine how many people would have to suffer some misfortune for _Mayweather _to be put in charge of the expedition?" She snuck an imperious glance at the Disaster Twins next to her. "If rumors are to be believed, it _could_ happen, but the odds in favor of it are ridiculous," she added, earning more glares from both of the disasters in question.

Tired of glaring at the doctor, Malcolm nodded. "It is an acceptable choice, sir. As a member of the Bridge crew and head of the Navigational chair, he would be appropriate."

Andie seemed delighted with the way her suggestions were being considered. "Not only does he have some command experience but nobody will notice when the engineer and the navigator keep disappearing together."

"Why would we be disappearing?" Trip inquired.

"You may not be able to build a big ship from the little ones, but there's no reason why the rest of the crew have to know that!" she gestured at the larger body of the camp behind her, most of whom could not hear their little meeting. "It couldn't hurt to let them think that you've got something cooking."

"You want me to lie to them?" Trip frowned. "They already know we're in trouble!"

"I think they can figure that out for themselves," Reed chimed in.

"Hope can get you through some awful things when nothing else will," Andie offered opaquely. "Eventually they'll figure out that there's no hope of rescue but they don't have to know you're truly out of options just yet. Fiddle around with one of the broken pods, and it'll buy some time before panic sets in."

Archer dismissed that suggestion with distaste. "I'm not going to mislead the crew, Andie."

"But…!" she attempted to change his mind.

"The answer is no," he restated firmly. "That's final."

T'Pol made an inquiry to fill in the silence. "By your logic, you would suggest Ensign Sato as my…buddy?"

The doctor answered with less verve than before. "She can be trusted with sensitive information, you can talk freely in front of her and of all the people on board she definitely smells the best."

"Speak for yourself," Malcolm grumbled. "I smell like a flower bed."

"Give it a couple days; you'll smell like compost," Trip assured him.

"Let's definitely implement the buddy system," Archer decided brusquely, restlessly checking his chronometer. "Is there anything else?"

Dr. Andie consulted her data pad. "Nobody goes anywhere alone. Everybody should be in camp by dusk. And we should arrange some things for the crew to do."

"Things like what?" Archer asked.

"Things," Andie repeated vaguely with a useless wave of her hand. "Yoga classes, nature hikes, treasure hunts, talent shows…you know... _things_."

"I didn't realize we landed in summer camp," Trip grinned. "I may learn to really enjoy this crash." Already he was feeling better. The brief bout with laughter seemed to have released the iron clamps around his lungs and he felt more relaxed than he'd been since they'd first seen the wreckage in the stars.

"I hated summer camp," Malcolm interjected. "All those absurd lanyards and swimming lessons!" _Why was he talking about swimming lessons?_ He resolved to try harder to keep his mouth shut.

"Bored people are dangerous people," Andie elucidated without registering Reed's offhand remarks.

"You are your own living proof?" Reed suggested with a wide grin. Inside he bit the inside of his lip and prayed it would keep him silent.

"I'm not bored…yet," she protested.

"These are not children!" Archer argued. "They are highly-trained Starfleet crewmen!"

"The doctor has a point." T'Pol hastily broke in to keep things calm. "I'll select teams to begin analyzing different aspects of this region: soil, water, plants, birds and animals to start with."

"There are some hygiene issues too," Andie went on. "The galley crew shouldn't have to spend all their time doing dishes, and for those with food allergies our lack of sterilization procedures could be deadly. Everybody should keep their own cup, plate and silverware. Nobody should eat or drink anything they find in the forest, we need a latrine…"

"Fine! Do it! Just do it with a buddy! Refer the rest of your list to Commander T'Pol!" Archer barked impatiently as the list continued to grow. He climbed to his feet. "I'm going to go ask Corporal Romero if he wants to join me on the scouting party this morning. Maybe we can fall over a cliff together!" To his irritation, she wasn't cowed. His shoulders swung as he stalked away; a sure sign that his earlier upset had faded from memory.

"I should be so lucky," Andie muttered, earning a soft nudge from Tucker's elbow. She returned the elbow nudge and he grunted easily.

"I'll speak to the galley crew," T'Pol rose gracefully with one final mysterious look at the doctor.

"Hess wanted to talk about a latrine yesterday," Trip huffed. "I guess I can't put that off any longer." He struggled to his feet on muscles that protested their further abuse.

Left alone, Reed asked "Do you have any suggestions for my buddy?"

"I have some Regulan blood worms that could use a friend." Andie grinned when Malcolm shuddered. He'd finished breakfast and the substance that passed for coffee. There wasn't much else to do but prepare for the day's security routines. _Unless he wanted to sit here and shoot his mouth off! _Reed scowled. The only reason his inner voice might be saying such things would be to indicate that he was showing off for the doctor, that he wanted her to notice him. That was ridiculous. Obviously it was easier to keep an eye on her when she was close by. Inwardly he nodded; that must be the reason.

Whatever the reason, his inner discourse was making him uncomfortable. Reed cleared his throat and climbed to his feet. He started to walk away but then turned back. "Nice tent, Doctor."

"Thank you," she accepted rather graciously. "I plan to remain inside most of the time. I thought I'd be comfortable while I'm out of sight."

"You must have been up all night creating that thing," Reed noted. "Did you get any sleep?"

"I'm fine," Andie hedged, still shifting restlessly.

"I doubt that," he murmured, bringing back the scowl to her face. Reed couldn't help but notice the way she studied her shoes when she spoke. He was pretty certain that was a lie, but he couldn't really blame her after what they'd been through the last couple of days. He took himself off to speak to both Parsons and Mackenzie about looking after the doctor. He wondered if adding Truax to the list in charge of the doctor would be overkill.

Hoshi sat down on the rock recently warmed by Tucker's fanny with her bowl of oatmeal sprinkled lightly with sugar and awkwardly balanced her coffee at her feet. "Everything all right?" she asked, delicately dipping into her bowl.

"Just protocols and procedures," Andie answered.

"The captain seemed upset when he left," Hoshi prodded.

"He always seems like that to me," the doctor stated.

"He's been a good friend to me. I'd hate to think that his days were made miserable by one single person who was holding onto some grudge." Ensign Sato kept dipping her spoon gently into her cereal, but she wasn't making idle talk with the physician. "That would be more than unkind."

For a soft-spoken woman, Hoshi didn't pad her words. "Lots of people are upset. Worry seems to be spreading through the crew. That can't be good," Andie pointed out.

"No, it can't be good at all." The Japanese woman poked at her oatmeal with one delicate pinky. "When Chef is upset, his cooking suffers. He's a sensitive person; he can pick up on the emotional vibrations around him."

Andie faced her opponent. "What do you want me to do about it?"

Hoshi smiled. "I'm sure you can think of something, Doctor." Cutler arrived in the chow line and the linguist waved at her friend. "Before the emotional vibrations around you grow ugly."

Sighing heavily, Andie picked up her nearly empty mug and went back to her Medical Tent.

* * *

_Alien Planet: Starfleet Hollow_

_Late afternoon: Day Two_

Archer returned from his very long walk, and dropped to the ground next to Commander Tucker, who was digging into a very late lunch with gusto. "How's it going?" he asked soberly.

"The long version includes an entire rant about the idiot at Jupiter Station who packed the emergency kits with the wrong size drill bit, so we had a hell of a time getting anythin' done," Tucker answered in between quick bites of meat loaf. "It continues with what I can only assume is the same idiot who decided that not all pods should come fully equipped! The short version is better." He swallowed a mouthful of potatoes. "We took that broken pod and realigned the walls to create four different stalls, and enclosed them with curtains to make, not one, but four different latrines. The waste recycler is purrin' along, and assuming that science and medical clear it for bio-matter regeneration, we'll have enough energy to power a protein resequencer or two. We may not have all the variety we'd get on a starship, but at least we'll have plenty to eat. The water purifiers seem to be workin' and it was the Maintenance crew who presented a proposal to utilize a couple conduits and one of the space heaters to make a faucet and possibly a shower head." Trip leaned back with a sigh and looked lovingly at his dessert. "I had such a good day that Chef gave me an extra pudding cup! It's chocolate and I'm not sharin'!" He brought a heaping spoonful closer to his mouth. "I'm so far ahead I might take some time off tomorrow!"

"Don't get too comfortable with that idea," Archer winced with trepidation. Nobody was working harder on their survival than Tucker, and he hated to take away his chance to rest but it had to be done.

Catching the terse tone, Trip looked at his pudding-covered spoon and sighed. "You really couldn't wait until I'd finished my puddin' to tell me that I can't sleep in tomorrow?"

"Sorry, Trip. It can't wait." Carefully Archer looked around, making sure they were mostly alone. "I need you and Mayweather to start work on an escape pod."

Trip put down his pudding. "You didn't change your mind about Andie's harebrained idea, did you?"

"No," Archer assured him. "Lying to the crew is a terrible idea. I need you to make it work for real."

Trip took a long moment to draw a deep breath and let it out slowly. The list of problems with that just kept filtering through his head. "We'll never get all these pods off the ground again."

"I don't need all of them. I need one. One pod will hold four people. A four man team could infiltrate the Launch Bay and retrieve a Shuttle Pod. Once we have a shuttle pod it's just a matter of towing all the pods back into the sky."

"The hulls weren't built to withstand…"

"Take whatever you need from the other pods. Double up the hull if you have to."

"That'll make it heavier and the biggest problem is still the inadequate power supply."

Archer frowned. "I need you to…pull a miracle out of your ass this time." That phrase sounded like something the doctor might say, and it tasted dirty in his mouth.

"You mind if I ask what the scoutin' party found?" Trip questioned slowly.

"A couple of kilometers are all we can cover. Then the terrain goes to hell with sharp rocks and ravines. We can't get a good look at the castle; we can only see a little bit of one turret. But we've got a good view of the field in front. There were at least a couple of armed units out there, going through their maneuvers."

"Maybe they're just practicin'?" Trip suggested.

"Malcolm said nobody trains that hard without a good reason. I don't intend to get caught in the middle of some civil war. We need to get out off this planet before they know we're here."

Not only did he need to pull a miracle out of his orifice, he needed to do it on a timetable. Trip sighed again. "We could offer them a tactical advantage in exchange for our safety."

"The last time we approached a pre-warp society, Malcolm and I nearly got executed. We can't take the chance that they'd throw us in jail and then come looking for the others. And by aligning with this faction, we'd be picking a side in a war we know nothing about." Archer plucked uselessly at a tuft of grass. "I think it's better if we get out of here sooner rather than later."

"Maybe we could just make friends." Trip tried again.

"If things don't go well, and with our track record it looks like they might go badly again, I don't want them heading up this mountain to find us. We have no place to go from here, and we have limited weapons and no shelter."

"Sounds like Malcolm's been outlining the finer points here."

That was true. The security detail had been quick to point out their weak spots and vulnerabilities while downplaying what might be another useless contact with people who might wish to do them harm. Archer had already butted in too quickly once this week and look where it got him. T'Pol was always preaching caution. He had to play it safe and take care of his people. They might be together until the end. Whether or not that end came sooner or later may well be in his hands alone. The little voice inside him asked him when he became such a cynic. The stoic man he'd become in the Expanse shoved that little voice down and stamped out the sound of it.

"Get it done, Trip. Our lives may be counting on it." Archer got up and dusted off his pants before heading back to the Hollow Central.

His trip was hastened by the woman's screams that pierced the afternoon air.

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Two: Shortly after returning with the scouting party_

Reed had just left the captain's side, relieved that nothing life-threatening had happened either to the leader of the expedition while at his side, or to the members that had been left behind in the short time he'd been gone. It was hard to know where trouble might strike and he was always kicking himself whenever he guessed incorrectly and someone suffered because he'd been in the wrong place. Always attentive to his grooming, he paused to wash his hands in a bucket set out for such things and was drying them on a damp towel when a sharp shriek let loose and echoed around the hollow. It wasn't the same as the screech they'd heard the other night; this was close by and definitely human.

Bracing his hand against the phase pistol bumping at his side, he raced to the scene of the problem, and wasn't surprised to find it was the Medical Tent. Pushing aside the small crowd of onlookers that gathered in the doorway, he found a pair of MACO's blocking the doorway of the escape pod that served as an exam room. Sharp commands at the others to get back allowed him to maneuver where he found she was lying on the floor.

She was also cursing a blue streak in a variety of languages under her breath.

The tension fled his shoulders and his jaw set at the thought that she had been making a ruckus and upsetting the whole camp. "All right, people. Let's clear the area. Give the doctor some room." Taking their cue, the MACO's began urging the spectators out the door while offering soothing but meaningless platitudes. Archer and Tucker appeared and crowded ahead of the others on their way out.

"What the hell happened?" Archer demanded.

"I don't know, sir. I was just about to ask." The three men turned to look at the doctor, still lying flat on her back in the stifling confines of the tiny compartment.

"Stupid hammock," was the only explanation they got. Actually it was probably all they needed. Each pod was equipped with two bunks that folded flat against the wall when not in use but they also carried a pair of hammocks intended to be hung from covered hooks in the ceiling. The top bunk was still folded up, while the bottom continued to stand ready with its clean coverings for the next patient's needs. One hammock continued swinging restlessly back and forth over her head.

"You screamed like the devil was comin' 'cause you fell outta bed?" Tucker queried in disbelief.

Her response was another round of alien curses.

"So you're not hurt?" Malcolm clarified.

"Nothing but my butt, and maybe my pride," she snorted.

"Dr. Brainerd, I expect better from someone like you," Archer began his lecture. He probably would have given her a good one too; there was nothing worse than the boy who cried wolf, but he could hear T'Pol's voice on the other side of the awning asking for an explanation from the MACO's who guarded the door. "I don't want to hear another peep from you!" he finished suddenly before turning and stomping out the door.

Trip sighed heavily and followed the captain.

Malcolm continued to stand in the doorway, feeling the aftereffects of adrenaline running through his system. His hands shook slightly and there was a slightly light-headed feeling, like being drunk. He grew concerned when the doctor continued not moving, just watching the hammock rustle overhead. "Are you all right?" he inquired quietly.

"Peachy," she remarked evenly.

There was a tiny voice in the back of his head that wanted to wrap an arm around her shoulders and comfort her, but that was out of the question for several reasons, not the least of which was, she was Trip's girl. That little voice was persistent. _If she was his, then why did he leave? Why didn't he stay to comfort her?_ He realized he was just standing there staring at her silently. "Do you need help getting up?"

It was the way that she slid a hand over her face that keyed him in that something was very wrong. That hand lingered over her eyes for just a second, as though wiping away a memory, before she pushed her body into a reclining position. "I'm fine," she assured him acerbically.

He could see her face was still ashen and perspiration glistened on her cheeks. "No, you're not," he told her point blank. She did take the hand he offered and once again he pulled her to her feet. "You had a fright," he told her somberly. He was certain of it; her hand trembled in his.

"Falling out of bed unexpectedly is scary," she snapped.

"It wouldn't be unexpected if you were awake to see it happening," he pointed out.

"Don't you have anybody who needs shooting somewhere else?" Andie asked pointedly.

"I know you're afraid," he told her simply, just cutting straight to the heart of the matter. She didn't stand on ceremony anyway.

"Stop!" she put up a hand but the words kept coming.

"It's important to get control of your fear. As the chief medical officer you set an example for the others and…"

"I'm fine!" she tried again.

"You are not fine! You are hanging on by a thread!" he snapped with frustration. The same could be said of him, he had time to note.

"I don't need you to tell me…!"

"There's no need to panic!"

"I don't panic!" she scoffed.

"Everyone panics sometimes; it's just a matter of not letting your anxiety guide you."

"I DON'T PANIC." She stated the words very clearly and very quietly.

"You're doing it right now," he pointed out.

Something crossed over her face, a sudden realization. "I am, aren't I? Damn it!" Her expression clearly indicated that she was taking his words and turning them over in her mind as though she'd found a new distasteful virus. "Thank you for your concern, Lieutenant," she said after a moment. "I'm much better now."

"Doctor…"

"Really, I can take care of myself. There won't be any further disturbances," she assured him carefully. One hand reached out and began to usher him to the entrance.

In spite of his protests he was standing outside in the weak sunlight in seconds. With a deep sigh he waved away the portal guardians. "The doctor is fine," was all he said. He had deep misgivings about that though. Now that he knew what her terror looked like, other pieces were falling into place. A woman who was terribly afraid would not want to wander alone on this world and would demand a buddy system. A woman who was terribly afraid would prefer marines to be camped next door. A woman who was proud would probably attempt to hide her own fears behind anger and take that feeling out on the people around her.

She was deeply afraid of something down here. He wondered what it could be.

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Two: Later that afternoon._

"You were speaking to the doctor earlier?" Hoshi looked up from her work at the lieutenant standing over her.

"This camp is very small. I talk to just about everybody," she told him with a small smile. She continued puttering with the tool in her hand.

"How's the emergency signal coming along?" he crouched down beside her and peered at the place where she was making adjustments.

"The communication array is all right, but the graviton field is bouncing our signal back to the planet. I hoped to boost the power output, but..." she sighed "...it's not going very well." She leaned back, bracing her hands in the dirt. "What do you want to know about the doctor?"

"She seems to be concerned about something but she won't talk about the problem," Malcolm admitted. "I'm not very good at getting people to open up their confidences, and I thought perhaps she might have spoken to you about them."

"We spoke a little bit about Captain Archer and we talked a bit about Chef," Hoshi told him. "Actually I did most of the talking."

"She didn't mention any particular difficulties she was having with a crewman?" he pressed further.

Hoshi's grin was wry. "The doctor doesn't have a problem with any of the crewmen."

Now Malcolm smirked. "Yes, she's the picture of affability." The sarcasm was unmistakable.

The linguist's chuckle was much easier this time. "What I mean is she gets along just fine with the lower decks. It's the officers with whom she tends to butt heads."

"This is why you will make an excellent lieutenant someday," Malcolm admitted. "I've never noticed that before." Looking carefully over his shoulder he caught sight of the doctor, sitting on a log before the pod belonging to Bowman and Mazaro. She didn't seem to be changing his bandaged hands or administering medication, just chatting with the boys. The dark circles under her eyes disappeared as she forced her face into a smile, and for just a moment she looked like she was having a good time.

The doctor rose and patted Bowman on the shoulder before looking around the central camp. Catching sight of him looking at her, she started to make her way over. Malcolm jerked his head around to Hoshi again. "If you should notice that anyone is giving her a hard time, would you make sure to inform...?" His attempt to be gone before she arrived was unsuccessful.

"Hi, Hoshi!" Andie greeted the woman cheerfully. "Reed," she added as an afterthought. "Hey, I was thinking about that thing we talked about this morning. I might have a solution if you're up for it."

For just a moment Malcolm thought she was talking to him and wracked his brain trying to remember what they'd talked about in the morning. Hoshi however seemed to know exactly what the doctor was talking about.

"What's your idea?" She had to tilt her head all the way up to Andie's.

The doctor's gaze slid briefly over the tactical officer. "I'd rather discuss it in private."

Hoshi looked hesitantly at Reed.

"I think we're done here, Ensign," he told her, standing up and feeling his knee creak. The cold was getting into his bones and making some of the past breaks and bends ache.

Scrambling to her feet, Hoshi offered Malcolm a nod then went off with the doctor. They stepped a few meters away and the doctor whispered in Hoshi's ear. Malcolm turned his head to look at the camp and hoped he could catch a few words to indicate what they might be talking about, but it seemed that both women were speaking in Vulcan. His understanding of their language was limited to a few key tactical and social phrases so it went over his head. With a sigh he went back to perusing the camp for others who might be irritated with the doctor and might have reason to want to cause her trouble.

* * *

_Alien planet: Starfleet Hollow_

_Early evening: Dinnertime:_

Truthfully, outside of their regular duties, there wasn't much to keep one hundred or so people busy. Taking potshots at the terrible food seemed to cheer them all somewhat from having to eat the provisions, but it made Chef despondent. Although the galley crew had brought a protein re-sequencer online, it was limited in function. It would re-sequence matter into protein-enriched material that appeared to be a variety of food. Unfortunately everything tasted like chicken and looked like toothpaste.

"I cook and cook my fingers to the bone, but nothing makes them happy!" The Frenchman spit energetically to one side. "They expect _filet mignon_ when I only have dirt to work with!" When Chef referred to his ingredients as dirt he wasn't far off. Even a world-class chef couldn't hope to make palatable the emergency rations available from the seldom used escape pods. Chef could be heard muttering in his native language and that was never a good sign.

The ladies of camp weren't having any such difficulties.

"Mmm," Hoshi murmured as she slowly removed the fork from her mouth.

"This is...so good," Cutler sighed, eyeing her next bite like it was a mountain of chocolate.

"Oh, yeah, that's the good stuff," Andie nearly moaned as she bit into the brown meat. She licked her lips slowly to retrieve every bit of flavor and sensuously slid her fork into her meal again.

"You got that right," Parson purred, sucking the gravy-like sauce from the tips of her fingers with more enthusiasm than strictly necessary.

There were more audible sighs and smacking of lips before Andie looked up at the mesmerized group of men standing and watching intently. "You boys better get your dinner before it's all gone," she admonished, licking her lips with relish.

"It is sooooo good," Hoshi drew the word out into a long sigh of happiness.

A mad scramble followed as Mayweather, Woods, Rostov and Crewman Jenkins tumbled over each other to be the next in line. Eagerly they held out their plates and encouraged Chef not to skimp on the servings. Chef beamed at their enthusiastic reactions to his offerings and obliged them with whole-hearted pleasure. Their eagerness caused the rest of camp to rise and hurry into line, pleasing Chef all the more.

"I can't believe that worked," Hoshi whispered to her co-conspirators, staring at the eager boys with one brow raised.

Liz glanced over her shoulder. "Chef looked so sad when they turned up their noses at his powdered eggs this morning. Now look at him. He's so happy!"

"It's hard to make _haute cuisine_ out of ration packs, and even harder when the Chef is in a deep blue funk," Caffrey assured them, putting down her fork and forgoing any further moaning over her dinner. She wasn't sure the taste would leave her mouth for a while.

"I still can't believe that worked," Hoshi repeated in disbelief.

"I've never met a man who could resist a moaning woman. They can't help being led around by one appetite or another," Andie offered cynically.

"That one can, it seems." Parsons tossed her long dark hair out of her eyes and motioned to a sulky officer wrinkling his nose over the selection on his plate. "He doesn't seem to be led around by his appetites."

"Reed doesn't count," Andie assured her. "I'm not convinced he would recognize a moaning woman if she bit him in the ass." That bitterness was left over from the way he dubbed her behavior as panic, especially because if she thought about it she might decide that he might be a little right.

Parsons winked. "He might enjoy that!" she teased.

"Perv!" Andie snorted with amusement.

"Puh-leeze! I'm trying to eat!" Caffrey refused to acknowledge that she'd already set her nearly empty plate down.

"I'm not listening," Hoshi disagreed with a mild shudder.

Andie and Parsons shared a small snicker and kept on with their dinner. Cutler couldn't help but look around. "Lt. Reed doesn't seem to have an appetite," she pointed out.

"That's what I heard Annabeth said," Parsons snorted in a tone that invited gossip, scraping her utensil against the bottom of her plate.

"Who's Annabeth?" Andie inquired.

"Crewman Annabeth Palmer," Hoshi filled in with a dark look at Parsons, who seemed not to notice. At Andie's blank look, the linguist reluctantly filled in the blanks. "She was a member of the science team when we were in the Expanse. The first time we started to go through this Nebula and an explosion threw us back in time and..."

"There was a time loop and an alternate _Enterprise_," Andie supplied. "I read the reports," she added when the others looked at her in surprise.

"Well some of us looked up our alternate lives, and it seems that Reed never married. He felt pretty terrible about letting the Reed line die out so he tried to avoid that history by spending time with Annabeth."

"I didn't know her very well but she was gorgeous!" Parsons filled in. "Very blond, big eyes..." The corporal trailed off with an appreciative sigh. "

"It didn't work out," Cutler cut into the reverie. "She said he was polite and well-mannered and punctual but he didn't seem to exhibit any passion."

"Tightly controlled is what she called it," Hoshi corrected.

"Stick up my arse is the phrase she used," Reed's voice filled in from above. The man in question stood over the group of females and looked affronted to find he was the topic of such covert discourse. "Surely there are better topics of dinner conversation?"

Sato, Parsons, Caffrey and Cutler clamped their mouths shut and looked down at their dinner plates with guilty expressions.

Andie looked Reed squarely in the eye. "Passionless? She didn't know you very well, did she?"

"Then she made a very good guess," Malcolm retorted sternly as he tried not to squirm with embarrassment. "Please stay out of my personal affairs." He looked very stern as he took the remains of a nearly full plate back to the Galley area.

Undeterred, Andie looked around at the others. "So what happened to Palmer?"

There were some uncomfortable looks before Hoshi broke the silence. "She's back on Earth. During the last attack with the Xindi she got a shard of something in her eye. Phlox removed it but it hadn't healed up in time for her to return to duty when we left Earth with Dr. Soong."

"I heard she's working with Starfleet Medical in the research wing," Caffrey broke in.

"Do you all agree with her assessment of Reed?" Andie pushed the topic just a little further. She didn't know him very well but lacking passion was certainly not something she would attribute to the stoic man. Restrained wasn't the same as unemotional.

"He's an excellent officer and a great tactical leader," Parsons recited as though it was a speech she'd memorized. She stood and took her plate to the wash bins.

"He prefers to keep to himself," Cutler shrugged before following Parsons.

"He's always pleasant," Caffrey added unhelpfully, following the others.

"And you?" Andie prompted.

Hoshi struggled for the right words while she secretly studied the doctor from under her lashes. "Lt. Reed is a deep well of mysteries," she announced carefully before following the others.

Andie pondered that as the light fled the day and left the murky night to stretch out its long fingers around camp. Obviously he was a man who insisted on keeping his privacy and his job would clearly make getting to know people a hardship. He was always kind to her though, even when she didn't necessarily deserve his compassion_. A deep well, indeed_, she thought.

As she sat on the rock that served as her chair, she had no idea she was unwittingly targeted. Behind her, from the downward slope of the mountain, something crashed through the bushes. That something was large and unconcerned with secrecy. The light was just fading from the dreary day when something crashed through the underbrush behind her.

The doctor was on her feet, still carrying the tray with the remains of her dinner. The mag pulse pistol continued to rest on her hip; she made no effort to reach for it. She turned to face the intruder. On all fours it stood tall enough to look her in the eye. It was large and angry. For one long second she didn't move. She didn't make a sound.

From the main clearing, a woman screamed. Instantly the security perimeter was on its feet. Those few who carried weapons lifted them with purpose, seeking out the invader. There was a squeal as the predator was sighted and a mad scramble of nearly one hundred people dashing for the nearest pod door. Porthos barked and strained against the end of his leash, but his crewman was determined to keep him from harm.

They had been infiltrated, and for one second Dr. Andie couldn't move.


	7. Chapter 7

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 7

* * *

_Alien Planet: Starfleet Hollow_

_After dinner: Day Two_

Reed took the initiative, moving across the compound, barking out commands to MACO's and non-essential personnel to get in closer or get into an escape pod according to their station. Chang and Romero were on sentry duty; already they were taking aim at the creature from atop the closest pods. People were moving in a tangle of bodies, and Reed maneuvered through them with a phase pistol in one hand, marveling at the creature even as he plotted its downfall.

It rather looked like a saber-toothed bulldog. Leathery brown skin was stretched over sinewy muscle all the way to its three-toed paw, which was larger than a dinner plate, although its cutlery consisted of yellowed talons sharpened on rock and tree. Its square brown face was pinched and angry and it pouted through a mouthful of spiny teeth that poked their way out of the square jaw. The lean tail was swishing madly from side to side, warning the onlookers not to reach out a hand to the bristles that thinly covered the tough hide. It was ugly and it was angry.

Andie's dinner tray slipped out of her suddenly nerveless fingers with a muted crash on the dusty ground. She slipped backward, shuffling in the dirt, refusing to take her eyes off the animal. The smell of meat tickled its flat nose and it crouched forward to lap at the meager meal with a long tongue.

"Get out of the way, Doctor."

She heard the clipped British voice behind her. "He's wounded," she stated softly. It was true; there was a deep gash in its hindquarters that bled thickly into the dirt. "We should let it go."

A dark clad marine pressed flat against the pod behind the intruder and the animal seemed to know it was cornered and it hissed and growled in several directions, scouting desperately for a weak spot. Malcolm imagined he could smell the remains of the creature's last dinner on its breath and kept a tight grip on his pistol. More MACO's arrived, slipping in through the narrow cracks between pods and tents, training those few weapons the camp retained on the thing.

"Take it down as soon as the doctor is clear!"!" Reed commanded. He shouted the order so he didn't have to reach for a communicator.

"No!" That damned woman stepped directly into his line of sight, taking her eyes from the danger to glance over her shoulder at the tactical officer. "It needs medical attention!"

"Get out of the way!" he shouted, moving forward to snake an arm around her waist. She screeched like a banshee and struggled in his grip. The phase pistol fell to the ground and Malcolm grunted as she got in a couple of good shots with her elbows and heavy boots. Several blasts lit up the murky air and the creature fell to the dirt.

"You bastard!" One swift kick to Malcolm's aching knee and he dropped her. Andie scrambled through the dirt and pulled out a medical scanner, taking readings on the fallen creature. Without any concern for danger she laid her hand against its heaving side. "It's alive," she noted with shaking voice. "You didn't kill it."

"Of course not," Reed refuted icily. "The rotting carcass would draw attention from other creatures just like it."

Andie didn't spare another dirty look for the tactical officer; she reached into the satchel that was always on her back and pulled out a medical kit. Donning a pair of gloves, she prepared to render aid to the gore-encrusted flank. MACO's gathered around, not to look but to offer military support, keeping their weapons trained on the sleeping creature.

"What the hell is that?" Archer joined the group, peering breathlessly over Reed's shoulder.

The tactical officer reviewed the incident in low tones, adding that they stunned the creature so they wouldn't risk hitting the doctor. He nodded at the woman who was setting out supplies and working on the fallen animal.

"You're offering medical attention?" The captain's tone expressed what he thought of that, and it wasn't good. "Do you really think that's wise?"

"We're on his world, Jon. He's doing what he does to survive. I'm not going to let him suffer for that. If we were on _Enterprise_, it might be different." She finished running her medical scanner over the creature and reached for her other tools.

At least she wasn't arguing loudly, or shrieking with fear or even wildly giddy as she'd been at breakfast, he thought. "Okay, Androcles," he snorted.

"My name is Andrea," she corrected absently, using a scalpel to open up the dirty tear in the creature's rear haunch in order to remove the intrusive and painful object buried there.

Archer looked nonplussed. "I'll have Malcolm update you on the classics," he sighed, looking determinedly away from the impromptu surgery.

"I see he's already met an archer," Andie punned as she dropped the gory arrowhead in an empty basin that appeared at her elbow. Ensign Black did not look happy to be so close to the dangerous animal, but he offered a suture kit when the doctor held out a hand. It took less than five minutes to repair the hindquarters. Andie pressed a hypo into the tough skin and released a painkiller. "I suggest we get him out of here before he wakes up. His stomach is nearly empty and he's bound to be hungry." She held out the pad to the captain and pulled off her gloves.

"How do you expect us to transport this thing?"

"May I suggest a litter, sir?" Malcolm interjected. "Several men and a large blanket should suffice. We'll drag it away from camp and release it."

"If we use a couple of steaks from the galley to lay a path for it, we could encourage it to leave in another direction!" Andie shot a worried glance at Archer's stern visage.

_If that didn't beat all!_ Archer thought. _They were finally working together on something._ "If it comes back tomorrow, we'll have to rethink its' continued existence," he warned them. "I'm going to hate to lose the steaks." He sounded woeful at the loss of stores. "Get it out of here, Malcolm."

"Yes, sir!" Malcolm snapped off a salute and signaled some other men to assist.

Andie just tipped her head to one side and looked at the captain thoughtfully.

It took half a dozen men trekking through the growing darkness of an unknown forest to lug the heavy animal outside the campsite. The doctor followed along, fussing all the way. She kept running medical scans of the creature that lay without moving for the duration of the trip. Its tail swished as the men set it down on the ground, causing the grown men to hop backward in concern.

"Let's go, Doctor," Reed indicated that she should precede them back to the Hollow.

"I'm not going back. He's vulnerable while he's unconscious. Someone needs to stay here until he wakes up," she told him, setting her jaw. "I'll be along shortly."

"When he wakes, he's not likely to be in a temperate mood!" Reed argued.

"The agreeability of my patients has never been a priority," she hissed. "Until he's back on his feet, he's still my patient and I'm not leaving him!" Her stance was decidedly stubborn and her hand hovered over her own pistol, strapped to her thigh.

Reed tried to ignore the way that the doctor was fussing over the large cat, smoothing its fur and gently scratching its ears. He weighed the likelihood of getting her out of here before she was ready to go. It just didn't seem worth the struggle. "Sergeant Chang?" Reed waited until the man stepped forward. "See that the MACO's get back to camp and set up a stronger perimeter until we are certain this creature is alone."

"Sir, you can't remain out here with this...thing," Chang disagreed.

"Would you like to drag the doctor back to camp? She's heavily armed and fairly well-trained and she's got a nasty temper!" Malcolm huffed silently, waiting for the sergeant to indicate with his body language that he would back down. "I'll wait with her. If this goes wrong, Starfleet Hollow will need you more than ever." He eyed the men sternly until they turned to depart.

Andie nodded her thanks and waited until their footsteps had died away. There was nothing but the usual forest sounds when she knelt down beside the ugly creature and smoothed a hand gently over his prickly hide, murmuring in his ears as she pressed a hypo into his shoulder. Almost as soon as the stimulant had been released, the creature twitched violently. The female fell backward trying to avoid contact and Reed moved forward with his gun drawn. She waved him away as she scrambled back to the outcropping of rock that presented some small modicum of cover. Reed joined her and ducked his head to wait.

She never took her eyes off the thing, peering around the edge of the rock until its whiskers flickered and a paw twitched. Its head rolled around groggily; the effects of both the sedative and several stun blasts were hanging on tightly. Eventually the thing turned and checked out its hindquarters, offering a few cursory licks to the injured area. It looked around; if it was alert, it probably saw the tops of their heads poking above the stone barrier. Instead of worrying about them, it yawned largely, sniffed the air and climbed slowly to its feet. The thick-clawed paws carried the creature the few steps to Chef's prized steaks. Two swallows took care of the cook's precious meats and then it lumbered off into the deepening darkness.

For the first time since they landed on this planet, Andie sighed with relief. She turned and rested her back against a boulder and stretched out her legs, giggling softly. Reed joined her, thinking they should get back to camp before the creature's family came looking for them.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked, concerned about hysterics. He should have known better.

"Doesn't it make you hot to save a life like that?" she grinned, beaming at him giddily.

"No, it doesn't," Malcolm refuted with a sigh. "I keep thinking that thing is going to come back to finish the job and perhaps bring its family along."

Andie was quiet for a moment. "You didn't kill it," she said in a low voice. "Thank you."

Her gratitude was not only unexpected, but rather unwelcome. "No, I don't make a habit of killing everything that crosses my path," Reed snorted.

She didn't overlook the sarcasm as she watched him stand. "It's important that you recognize something," she started carefully.

"What might that be?" Malcolm finished dusting his pants and offered a hand to the woman.

"I did _not_ panic," she stated firmly, ignoring the assistance.

"No, you leaped into the middle of a dangerous situation without thought for yourself or the danger to your companions."

"Exactly!" she grinned. "I'm reckless, not cowardly!" She took her time in regaining her feet.

It had been a very long day. "Doctor, of all the names I'd like to call you, 'cowardly' has never been one of them." He looked at her again as she continued to lean against the rock. "Are you coming, Doctor?"

Something crossed her face. "Yeah," she agreed easily, pushing her body away from the boulder and standing unsteadily on her feet. It didn't take more than a couple of steps to see that she was favoring her ankle.

Reed sighed. "You've been hurt," he pointed out.

"I twisted my ankle when I fell. It's nothing a little methyl salicylate and an ice pack won't cure," she waved away his concerns.

"You can't walk back to camp," Malcolm guessed.

"I can walk!" she protested. "I just have to walk slowly."

Reed ground his teeth slowly. "This would not have been a problem if you'd just left when I directed you to," he seethed.

She scowled at him, looking more obstinate than usual.

"Lieutenant Reed to Sergeant Chang," he spoke into the communicator. The distance wasn't far but the communicator was still garbling the words through static.

"_Chang here, sir."_

"I'd like you to join the doctor and me. We could use your assistance." He flipped his machine shut and perched on the rock near the doctor with a huff. They waited in silence for a few minutes.

"Reed?"

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Who's Androcles?" She hated to ask, but the reference was over her head.

"It's a Greek tale. He pulled a thorn from a lion's paw. The lion later spared his life."

She pondered that in silence for a moment. "So maybe we haven't seen the last of him," she murmured hopefully.

"You'd better hope we have. The next time he comes into camp, I'm going to kill him."

Andie's jaw dropped in horror. "You wouldn't!"

"I would," he assured her. "Once is an accident. Twice is a habit. As long as we're here, my orders are to protect the crew."

"You're despicable!" she snapped, and struggled to her feet, just as Change came thundering through the trees. She hobbled her way toward him and briefly explained her injury. Chang sought confirmation from the lieutenant before dipping to lift the doctor in his arms and carrying her back to camp, leaving Malcolm to gather the large blanket and follow behind with his pistol drawn in search of danger.

Malcolm watched her go with mixed feelings. He really would prefer to keep his relations with the crew affable; but his job wasn't conducive to pleasantries. There were times when dirty deeds must be done and he was the one who had to do them. He pushed away the memory of her face softening in relief when the creature got up and walked away. As he entered the perimeter he waved Mackenzie over and made a few alterations to the current security measures.

* * *

_Alien Planet: Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Two: Just after dark_

Camp was unnaturally silent as the crew huddled around their fire pits, craning their ears to hear sounds of invasion that never came. Only Andie made noise, clattering out of the Medical Tent on the arm of Crewman Cutler, and chattering like a magpie. Cutler had performed the scans of the doctor to make certain there was no permanent injury. It really was just a sore muscle and she'd treated herself with the appropriate cream. Trip waved them over to the large bonfire at the center of the clearing and helped Andie settle in beside him. Mayweather brought a small crate covered with a folded jacket to help elevate her foot and Trip shared his blanket.

"Why is Security banging on the pods?" she asked as she caught her breath. Each thump was at semi-regular intervals, made by rocks or branches. The physician snuggled deeper into the blanket she shared with the engineer. The nights were always chilly.

"The noise might keep any other animals from venturing into camp," Reed explained from across the circle, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets and trying not to think about his friend's luck with women. Trip only had to be charming; he didn't have to be alert to every danger.

"It's got kind of a nice beat," she snorted, humming idly under her breath in keeping with the tempo.

Across the fire pit, Travis Mayweather suddenly jerked his head upright and stared at the doctor. "Hey! I know that song! You know the Velkasha Ne'tari?" In the nervous stillness of people waiting for danger, his eager voice carried clearly through the camp, startling several of the silent others.

Andie whipped her head around to study the boomer, looking concerned before breaking into a pleasant smile. "Of course I do! Anybody's who's anybody knows the Velkasha Ne'tari!" she grinned widely.

Travis grinned. "I have all their albums!" His glee spread through a night too quiet for the hundred or so bodies. "I never knew any Terrans who knew the Velkasha!"

"I guess I'm not your ordinary Terran," Andie smiled easily. She was keenly aware of Lt. Reed staring at her from across the flames licking the sky. Involuntarily her glance shied sideways at the engineer beside her and she shifted in her seat. Trip and T'Pol might know why she was not an ordinary Terran, but Reed didn't. She accepted the mug of hot coffee that Cutler brought to her and busied herself by sipping slowly at the beverage as Liz waved at Ensign Shannen and headed for another bonfire.

Travis grinned wider. "I almost got to see them once! They were playing just two light years away from Draylax! Dad wouldn't let me go; said I was too young! They are supposed to be amazing in person!" His enthusiasm was contagious.

"What kind of music do they sing?" Tucker asked, craning his neck painfully around to look at Andie. His brain was coming up empty with ways and means to launch a fully loaded and heavily reinforced pod into the air and there was a dull pain building behind his eyes.

"They are empathic vocalists," she answered simply.

"Empathic?" The engineer repeated. His distraction was making it difficult to follow the conversation and he resolved to pay more attention.

"They can sense what the audience is feeling and they sing it! They just make it up right there on the spot!" Mayweather babbled eagerly. "Their concerts are a scrapbook of everyone who's ever been to hear them!"

"The music is nice, but it's the cascading glass that really makes the concerts worthwhile," Andie added dryly. "A good opera singer can shatter a crystal glass if she hits the right note. Velkasha Ne'tari performs on a stage made of blown glass, and their finale is an operatic cascade that causes the entire stage to disintegrate into a thousand points of light! Everything shatters!" Her smile was far away. "They blow their own glass," she added unnecessarily.

Mayweather's eyes opened wider. "You've seen them in concert?" he questioned eagerly.

"Actually I kind of...traveled with the band for a couple of months one summer," she answered hesitantly, huddling deeper into the blanket she was sharing with Tucker, feeling like she'd backed herself into a conversational corner and wishing she could deflect it.

"Eep! I'm dying!" Travis clutched at his chest in a melodramatic display before toppling over sideways, nearly landing in T'Pol's lap, and lying still on the ground.

Around the Hollow, other crewmen darted to attention, seeing that the helmsman had fallen and presuming something awful. Hoshi's giggle was followed by a series of relieved sighs as they settled down again.

"Great! Now you've killed Travis!" Trip teased, grinning for the first time that evening.

"Damn," Andie exhaled heavily. "The paperwork's going to be hell!"

The Vulcan raised one unsmiling eyebrow at the ensign lying on her feet and lifted her mug of tea out of his way as he muttered apologies and scrambled back into his seated position. Only someone who knew her well would know that she was not entirely displeased.

"How did you manage to travel with the Velkasha?" Mayweather demanded jealously.

Andie hesitated. "I was in this bar…" she started slowly.

"Why do I have the feeling that many of your stories begin with your presence in some disreputable bar?" Malcolm interrupted from his corner of the fire. His mouth twitched.

"Probably the same hunch I have that the stories that start with you in a bar end with you going home alone," Andie retorted with a chilly smirk.

"Not as many as you might think," he answered archly, lifting his mug in her direction and sipping.

Studying the armory officer to see if he would challenge her story further, Andie went on. "I was in a bar….which was not at all disreputable...waiting for a transport, and the Velkasha needed repairs and the bar owner offered to pay for the maintenance on their ship if they'd sing a couple of sets. He was a fan," she added unnecessarily. "They performed a couple of songs until the lead singer collapsed on stage. They called for a medic. I offered my services and they gave me a ride."

"How long were you with them?" Travis asked in awe.

"Only a short time," Andie hesitated again. "I got off at the next port and got lucky. There were lots of musicians looking for extra hands in exchange for a lift." She yawned and stretched. "I roadied one summer. Is roadied a verb?" she glanced at Hoshi who shrugged indolently.

"Where would you find a space port with lots of musicians...Oh my God! The Trazgernie Festival?" Travis guessed, his eyes growing wider again. He made a sound like 'squeep' as he clutched his chest and fell over again, this time onto Hoshi's lap. She rolled him off with a grin. "You've been to the Trazgernie?" he asked from his position on his back looking up at the dirty stars.

"You've heard of the Traz?" Andie queried lightly. Her shoulders tensed up. From across the fire, Malcolm could see the question unnerved her more than it should.

"Um, _yeah_!" Travis sat up enthusiastically. "Everybody knows the Traz! They redefine music as we know it!" He dusted off his pants and scrambled back into his seat with the air of an eager puppy.

"What's the Traz?" Hoshi inquired, checking her mug for debris that might have filtered in from Mayweather's pratfalls.

"It's a big music concert, like Woodstock, only less civilized," Andie responded carefully.

"My dad wouldn't let me go to the Traz. He said it was no place for a kid," Travis interjected forlornly.

"He's right about that. It's not for the faint of heart." Andie wished her mug wasn't empty. "I was nearly trampled at the Traz myself when the shops opened. It was during my misspent youth. I was younger then and able to get away. Not old, like I am now," she grinned.

"You're younger'n me," Trip pointed out. She shrugged angelically and ignored the dirty look he sent her way regarding the word 'old.'

The helmsman didn't seem to take any of the cues that might have led to a change in conversation. "Man, the last time the Velkasha played the Traz was…" Travis voice drifted away as he tried to calculate. Andie cringed inwardly as he suddenly sat up straighter. "You didn't by any chance get to hear Stratosfearia?" he asked eagerly.

"No," she denied with relief. "I caught a ride before they played."

"Who leaves the Traz early?" Travis squeaked. "In the whole history of the festival, the only people who've ever left early was…." He stopped talking and stared at Andie in awe.

The doctor silently cursed the helmsman's abundant knowledge of interstellar musical lore.

"Oh, you didn't," he whispered. "You did not! You didn't leave the Traz with Drakken Noiren?" he begged. He didn't need an answer; he just clutched his chest and toppled over again, falling backward this time to stare blankly at the unfamiliar stars overhead.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Trip burst out giggling. "You killed him again? This has got to be a record! That must be one hell of a concert!"

"You got to be a groupie for some of the biggest names in music during your misspent youth?" Travis repeated weakly raising his head to peek between his upraised boots. "You partied with the Velkasha Ne'tari at the Trazgernie Festival, and then you traveled home with Drakken Noiren." His expression was the perfect blend of agony and ecstasy as he scrambled clumsily to his seat again. "I'm dying to hear everything! You must have some stories!"

Andie smiled slowly, indicating the affirmative. "I misspent _a lot_ of my youth," she added unrepentantly.

"Don't tell me you toured with Drakken Noiren too?" Hoshi inquired politely, cradling the last warmth of her mug between her chilly fingers.

"Our relationship was never professional," Andie demurred. She felt exposed, as though there were too many eyes watching her. The only pair of orbs she could see across the fire were icy blue like a summer sky. All the others were exhaling slowly in the darkness beyond at the lively conversation going on with the senior officers.

Trip looked skeptically at the doc. "You dated Drakken Noiren?"

"Drakken Noiren is the name of the band. I didn't date the whole band; just spent some time with Drak. It was their last tour. I've still got their personal recordings in my quarters. They're rough cuts but I'll make you a copy when we get back to the ship, if you like."

"Do you really think we're ever going to get back?" This last sentence was hesitantly asked by a young Henry Bowman, pausing in his return to his bonfire to inquire as to their collective fate. His bunkmate, Tim Mazaro, stood right beside him carrying two steaming mugs; both their eyes were as wide as saucers. The worry was evident in his quivering voice. His pale bandages glowed dimly in the darkness. Obviously they'd been listening. In a camp this size, it was hard not to hear everything. In fact, all ears were tuned in to the exchange with bated breath.

"Of course we will," Andie answered with a falsely easy grin. "What makes you think we won't?"

"We're shipwrecked! We can't go anywhere!" Tim Mazaro threw out an arm, as though she were dimwitted. His concern carried through the quiet campsite. "There are hungry aliens just waiting to devour us, both out there and up there!" He waved at forest first then starry sky.

"So?" she refused to falter. Waving at the man beside her, she eyed Henry. "Have you met the Chief Engineer? This is Commander Charles Tucker. Look at this big ole brain he's got." Playfully she grasped Tucker's head in her hands and shook it back and forth, eliciting a grin and a grunt from the man.

"Get off me," he muttered, shoving her hands away, feeling the tension that had briefly left his tense shoulders, settle in again. He worried about how he was going to perform this miracle everybody thought he should. He longed for a big warp generated computer to help with the calculations.

Andie obliged him by dropping her hand into her lap but continued to smile encouragingly at the young pair still lingering in the darkness at the edge of the firelight. "We'll be off this rock in no time!"

"Yes, but…" Henry persisted.

Andie cut him off. "I am a pain in the ass and I like things done my way. Have you ever known me not to get exactly what I want?"

"Only Lt Reed's respect," the ensign muttered carelessly, stopping the conversation cold. He was suddenly unnerved at the number of people glaring at him in front of him, and the number of titters coming from behind him.

"Thank you for that insight, Ensign," Trip drawled, while placing a hand on Andie's knee in case she might decide to dive across the fire pit and attack Reed to avenge her honor. "Inni't past your bedtime, boys?"

Tim took the hint and urged Henry back to their smaller fire in front of their tent. They left a heavy silence in their wake, returning the senior officers to their previous status quo. Malcolm refused to look at Andie, and she kept shuffling her feet in the dirt in front of her.

"So did Dräe Rouge ever play at the Traz?" Trip inquired to break the silence. Dräe Rouge was Andie's alter ego. Once when she was stuck in an alien bar she'd made a living as a singer, sticking mostly to rock music and disco.

Andie's mulish glance was ready to attack at the first sign of a sneer, but she relaxed when her gaze only met cautious curiosity. "Dräe Rouge was small potatoes, a garage band. The Traz is the premier interstellar musical festival in the Alpha Quadrant, available by invitation only."

"And you dated Drak?" Travis went back to moaning in awe. "Do you keep in touch?"

"No, we lost touch," she admitted apologetically.

"Lost your taste in bad boys?" Reed inquired curiously. He couldn't imagine the last time she'd offered this much information without a weapon pointed at her. She was a music lover who got into the best festival and left early with a rock star. He thought it was interesting and wondered if any of her personal background was true. Certainly she had not spent all her time in a private girl's finishing school!

"No, he got arrested after I left his ship," she answered tartly, fidgeting with a string on her sleeve. She really wished they would talk about something else. "And then he got married. Although those two things weren't related," she added.

"Was it drugs?" Hoshi inquired with hushed curiosity.

"I hope so! Have you met his wife? You'd have to be high to hit that!" Andie joked lightly. At the insistent looks, she sighed. "No, he was caught transporting a prohibited substance without a permit across interstellar jurisdiction."

"He was a smuggler?" Reed perked up.

"Not exactly," she hedged. "He wasn't smuggling it; just transporting it."

"Illegally," Reed pointed out.

"Yeah, sort of," she admitted after careful consideration. "It was complicated."

"But you didn't get picked up with him?" Reed pried.

Andie's face hardened slightly. "It was complicated. But no, I didn't get pinched by those authorities."

"Which authorities have you been arrested by?" he wanted to know.

"Perhaps I misspoke. I have never been arrested for smuggling," she stated with certainty.

"Why don't you sing a little something for us?" Trip encouraged, breaking up the intensity. "What kind of music did Darkened Noobie sing?"

Andie and Travis shared a look and a smile. "Loud!" they agreed with a laugh.

"The music of _Drakken Noiren_ is not fit for campfires," Andie went on, emphasizing the name for Trip's benefit.

"What about those Vell…Vel…" he stumbled.

"Velkasha Ne'tari?" Andie considered. "Their music loses something in the translation. It has something to do with the ears."

"Ears?" Trip inquired. He was suddenly deeply aware of T'Pol sitting silently across the fire. She was still wearing her pink cap and keeping silent with her hands wrapped around a mug. He knew she was enjoying the company even if she didn't join in.

"The tympanic membrane inside their ears is…really complex. They have…They have good hearing." Andie finished awkwardly. She shivered slightly. "It wouldn't sound right. I'll let you listen to the recordings when we're back aboard _Enterprise_." The doctor looked over at Mayweather. "I didn't realize you were such a music buff."

"Oh, yeah, well...You know...It's an old boomer saying. 'Music travels'," he shrugged with a wide grin.

"Ain't that the truth," Andie grinned in agreement. She shivered again in the chilly night air.

Trip noticed the shudder and stepped out of their shared blanket to toss another small log onto the fire pit. He was unaware that the silent first officer watched him closely as he took back his seat next to the doctor and pulled the shared blanket back around their shoulders.

"Not that I'm in any hurry to get back to the ship," Andie noted with a sly glance. "Every time Tucker bends over to pick something up, I get a great view of his tushie."

"_What?"_ Several heads whipped around to stare at Andie as she giggled. Tucker scooted further away from her, taking the blanket they were sharing.

"What?" she repeated with wide innocent eyes. "There's no Movie Night scheduled down here. I have to have _something_ pretty to look at."

"You hate movie night," Trip stated blandly.

"If you ever showed a movie as interesting as your tushie, I would enjoy myself very much," Andie answered sweetly.

Trip eyed her dubiously. "I'm going to bed," he told her firmly.

"All by your lonesome?" she giggled wickedly.

"Yes!" he answered, rising to his feet. The action placed the aforementioned tushie right at her eye level and she smothered another round of giggles as she winked at Hoshi. Trip responded by yanking the blanket from around her shoulders and wrapping it securely around his body before stomping off into the darkness, leaving her to chortle helplessly.

"I could use some water," Travis sighed, rising to his feet. He knew they'd be rising early in the morning. He stepped across the campsite.

"I will turn in as well," T'Pol responded. Hoshi rose with the Vulcan and the pair headed off to their quarters.

Andie eyed Reed over the empty log. "Feel free to show me your tushie, if you like," she suggested playfully as though she hadn't called him despicable just a short time ago.

"You seem quite pleasant," he pointed out.

"Saving a life makes for a good day," she shrugged.

"How did you avoid getting arrested with the smuggler?" he wanted to know.

She sighed heavily. "I was...involved...in returning the...item...to its...proper place," she explained haltingly. "The entire incident was...suppressed. That's all I can say about that."

"There's nobody here but us, Doctor," Reed told her, attempting a winning smile. He just looked predatory.

"I think you and I both know that's not exactly true, Lieutenant," she answered, after looking around at all the people who had not yet turned in. "I don't have anything more to say." Andie sighed. She rolled her head around on her shoulders, wishing someone would work the knots out of her shoulders. It was going to be another long night.

"Well, then I suppose our conversation is also at an end. Good night, Doctor," Reed stated firmly. He took himself and his mug of cold tea back to his tent. It didn't take a security specialist to recognize a cover up. She was André Brainerd's daughter after all. Politics and special favors were no doubt involved in suppressing her youthful indiscretions. He was disgusted with his own interest in the disruptive woman. It wouldn't do to be distracted by her; he had to worry about his extra turn at guard duty right now. He washed his mug and gathered up his gear before relieving one of the MACO's.

Captain Archer watched the interactions around the fire from the door of his own temporary quarters. He didn't dare take part in their firelight talk, in part because he didn't think he'd be good company. The mantle of leadership always felt too heavy for his shoulders, and he'd acquired a habit of retreating to his own quarters on board when he wanted to get away from the watchful eyes, but there was no such luxury here. They were all trapped together.

The burdens were feeling especially heavy tonight. The local population was preparing to go to war. Hopefully they were not headed up here, but he couldn't be certain. They were outmatched and possibly susceptible to the strange vagaries of the planet. The air made it hard to breathe. Now there were wild animals that could break into camp and devour people almost without warning.

Puzzlingly, the worse their situation got, the cheerier the doctor seemed. She was in good spirits tonight. As soon as the senior staff left her, she was surrounded by a handful of off-duty MACO's who settled at the large fire and began joshing her.

"_If I'd know all it would take to drag that stick out of your butt was an attack on your person, I would have sicced Woods on you a couple days ago!"_

"_I do not have a stick up my butt!" _Subdued chuckles drifted on the night air. _"Well, not anymore!" _She grinned ruefully.

In moments they were chuckling and laughing over something that failed to catch Archer's ear. Several minutes after that somebody, he thought it might be Woods, somebody started tapping out a beat on his knee in cadence with the random banging from the guards and in minutes the group around the large fire had started a haphazard rendition of Styx's _Too Much Time on My Hands._ That song was more appropriate than they could possibly know; it was difficult keeping one hundred people busy when there wasn't much to do other than worry. But the worry was beginning to bring the crew down. And now wild animals had become a new concern, even if the joviality of the senior staff had managed to belay that for an hour or so.

The deep voices gave way from Styx to Aerosmith and their conversation grew just a little raunchy in the deepening night. Archer wished they would start an old-fashioned sing-a-long; he knew quite a few old campfire songs that had entertained travelers since the first seaman had taken off in the dawn of time to seek out new territories. He was tempted to go over and join them; he had been told that his singing voice was quite nice. But he stayed where he was. It was easy to be their leader when it came to singing songs in front of a tent; but tomorrow he may be required to offer uplifting words to them over a hole dug in the cold and stubborn earth to inter one of their own that might have been devoured by something out there in the darkness. In spite of the close quarters, he didn't feel he could draw closer to any of these people. At the moment, he could barely breathe.

When he couldn't take the loneliness anymore, he picked up his empty mug and headed into his escape pod. It didn't help. He could still hear the rounds of music and their slightly hysterical cadences of marching tunes and drinking songs that kept time with the random thuds against the pods by security and Archer was conscious of the moat of power that kept him at bay. Porthos sought warmth under one of his arms and he cradled his mutt and waited for sleep to come, wiggling his toes to keep them warm in the chilly air.

* * *

_Alien Planet: Starfleet Hollow_

_Four Hours Later: Day Two, barely_

Reed stepped out of the latrine and carefully washed his hands in the basin that had been set out. The water was close to freezing and he stuck his hands in his pockets to warm them when he was finished. His toothbrush was also in his jacket, but he thought he'd wait for a clean mug of water for that task. Guard duty had been routine and calm, for which he was grateful. He looked over the fire pit which had died out when the singers had headed for their quarters, then obsessively checked the condition of the Medical Tent. There was no telling what mischief that woman had gotten up to since he'd been gone.

A thin stream of light fell through a crack in the tent flap that had not been completely fastened. Inside he could see the doctor was still awake; quite a surprise considering how early she'd been up this morning. She pulled open a medical case and removed a bottle. She tipped something into her palm and replaced the bottle and closed the case. She placed the pill in her mouth and chased it with something from her mug.

There was something furtive about her movements; he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Casually he strolled across camp to her door. "Good evening, Doctor," he greeted her, ducking under the flap.

She whirled around and looked surprise. "Reed!" she noted. "Are you injured?"

"No," he refuted. He struggled for the right words. He should have thought this through. "Are you injured?" He worked hard to buy time.

"No," she responded slowly, as though he might have a head injury. "I work here."

Ridicule should be expected with ridiculous question like his. "I meant, I am not injured but..." He risked a closer look at her features in the pale illumination.

Her eyes were abnormally dark. He squinted, thinking it might be the lighting inside this tent, but he was certain it was not. Her pupils were dilated. The color was high in her cheeks. If he had to guess, she was high as a kite.

"...but you have brain damage anyway?" she finished for him.

_What reason would the doctor have for taking medication?_ The dark circles under her eyes were a good indicator; in this dim light they were particularly pronounced. _Had the injury to her ankle been more serious than she'd claimed?_ "I'm having trouble sleeping," he finished. If he was lucky, she kept her medications together and he would get to see the bottle she'd taken her pill out of when she went to get one for him.

"You just got off guard duty," she pointed out. "You haven't been to bed. Give your body time to adjust to the hour."

"Trip...snores," he fibbed again. "I know that when I get to our tent, I will lie awake because he snores and I'm a light sleeper. I was hoping that you had something mild that won't keep me from missing breakfast in the morning."

Now Andie squinted at him skeptically. "Okay then," she responded slowly, deciding he must be telling the truth. She stepped into the exam pod and typed on the keyboard there, checking his medical files for instances of insomnia and allergies to medications.

"I'm surprised to find you awake," Malcolm said out loud in the empty anteroom. "You were awake all day. Have you slept at all?" He attempted a joke. "Maybe _you_ should be taking the sleeping agent!"

"I'm fine," she told him simply. She lifted the lid of a case and pulled out a bottle. Reed hovered closely over her shoulder and caught a quick glimpse of the correct bottle before she turned around, nearly bumping into him in the close quarters. Clearly she thought he was up to something, but she couldn't figure out what it was. She tapped out one small pill into his waiting palm. "Don't operate any heavy machinery. Or your phase pistol," she added. "It's very mild; you should get a couple hours rest."

"Thank you." He noticed that she was swaying just a little on her feet. If he had checked the right bottle, then it was a stimulant she had taken. He shouldn't worry; he'd taken stimulants himself on occasion. _But why wouldn't she want to go to sleep?_ He thought about the fear she'd experienced earlier, followed by her encounter with the animal. _Was someone threatening her when she was dead to the world? Was it just an ordinary case of nerves in a strange situation? _He noticed she was eyeing him curiously again. "Good night, Doctor. If there's anything I can do for you in return, just let me know."

"Don't worry, Lieutenant. You don't owe me anything. It's my job to dispense medication. There's no charge." Her eyebrows were arched high as she watched him take his leave. Obviously she thought he was nutty.

Because she was still watching him, he headed straight for his tent and slipped inside. Trip turned over in his sleep and mumbled unintelligibly.

"Trip?" Malcolm whispered. He hated to wake the engineer who desperately needed his sleep, but he really wanted a second opinion about the doctor's state of mind. Trip would know her better than anybody else. "Trip, are you awake?"

There was a long pause before the answer came. "No," grunted the annoyed sleeper. Trip rolled resentfully onto his back but didn't open his eyes.

"When's the last time you remember the doctor sleeping?"

"Mean 'sides this afternoon?" Trip garbled.

"I don't think she's been sleeping well at all. Just a few moments ago I saw her taking what I think might be stimulants to keep awake. I really don't think it's a good idea for her to prescribe her own medication, and she should really be more concerned about getting a good night's sleep and if anybody knew anything about her state of mind, I thought it would be you..."

"Is it possible that you're keeping tabs on the doctor so you don't have to think about our predicament?" Trip groused sleepily.

"I hardly think that's the problem at issue," Malcolm protested.

"Malcolm?" Trip interrupted. "Leave the doctor alone. She'll be fine."

"It's just that I really think..."

"Get off the doc, Malcolm," Trip muttered crossly, turning over onto his side.

"I will if you will." Reed's jaw clamped shut just a half second after the inflammatory words fell out of his mouth. He waited with his eyes closed in recoil, waiting for the engineer to avenge his lady's honor or something, but a light snore indicated that the tongue lashing would probably not be forthcoming this evening. Trip was already asleep again.

With a deep sigh Malcolm took the pill out of his hand and looked at it. He had no intention of consuming it, but he didn't want to leave it lying around. Obviously Trip had no use for sedatives at the moment if the heavy rhythm of his respiration was any indication. Patting his pockets with one hand took some wriggling, but he heard a familiar crinkle in one pocket and pulled out a small square of paper. It was just the familiar warning label that came standard in every new case opened on board ship, noting that it was packed and inspected by a numbered crewman in a warehouse. Malcolm folded the tiny pill into the small scrap of paper and discarded the notion of tucking the package into the basic first aid kit kept standard in all tents for emergencies in case Commander Tucker decided to paw through the next day. Instead he tucked it into his breast pocket, zipping the fastener closed.

Then he lay on his back with his head cradled in his hands and considered all the possible problems the doctor might be having with any number of crewmen that might be keeping her awake at night. He fell asleep before completing even half the list.


	8. Chapter 8

Renaisterre:

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter Eight

* * *

A/N: Wahoo! Three chapters this week! It's my personal best, I think. I hope it will tide you over for a while. I'll be on vacation next week.

Thanks to everybody who reviews! You guys are great!

* * *

_Alien Planet: Starfleet Hollow_

_Morning: Day Three_

"Awesome!"

In the wee hours of the early morning after a late night spent on the hard ground during another freezing night when the morning isn't much brighter than the nighttime lights on board ship, Travis Mayweather's persistent cheeriness made Trip Tucker want to smack him.

A lot.

Sitting around a campfire sharing songs and stories as they had done last night was something that Trip usually liked to do but not when it involved a long-term or possibly permanent settlement on an unwelcoming alien world. However in spite of the dire situation, Travis Mayweather's enthusiasm would not be denied. As the resident Boomer, there never seemed to be anything that could keep the young man down for long. The same could not be said for most of the campers. After their worry-free evening, they were drifting back to glum.

The engineer took a deep breath. "It's not awesome," he grumbled. "It's practically impossible. But we're going to do it anyway." He'd just been explaining the Four-man Pod Plan that Archer had indicated yesterday. He had tried to think about it all night but his mind kept diverting to problems in camp, like how to further purify the waste filtration devices so there was less risk of contaminating the food and anyone who ate it. Maybe he should be designing a pump to bring water to camp so there wouldn't be any need to lug it by hand in buckets. Maybe he should concentrate on the re-sequencers so they wouldn't starve.

"No, this is great!" Travis assured him with a grin. He leaned in closer and whispered excitedly in Tucker's ear. "It'll be just like Zefram Cochrane taking off with nothing more than a nuclear warhead powering the _Phoenix_ into the stars and into his destiny!"

"Except we don't have a nuclear warhead," Trip pointed out glumly.

"We'll find something flammable," Travis grinned and grinned. "Then BOOM!" He made his hands billow out like fireworks to emphasize his point, ignorant of the other diners who didn't think explosions should accompany the morning meal. There were more disgruntled looks today than yesterday. The general sense of comfort that had begun last night had withered away in the murky dawn.

Tucker sighed heavily. He was just about to consider requesting a different, less morning-inclined buddy when he saw T'Pol exiting the Medical Tent. If there was somebody who knew about explosive chemicals...Trip chuckled slightly, disturbing Mayweather and his delighted retelling of the entire Cochrane legend and causing the helmsman to look inquiringly at the engineer. "It's nothing," Trip waved away any comments.

"You haven't giggled in a while," Travis pointed out. "It's got to be something!"

"Just remembering T'Pol and I trying to synthesize Trellium-D and blowing up part of the bulkhead."

"That's funny?"

"Yeah, it is today. Where's that data pad?" Tucker reached for a pad and stylus and started working out combustible power requirements.

* * *

_Alien Planet: Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Three: 1130 hours_

The landscape of camp looked a little different. Several crewmembers were sporting skull caps and wearing mittens. A few were in the coveted pink, but more and more were cropping up in chocolate brown. Obviously the Doc had run out of yarn and started another skein. Trip stepped up to the Medical Tent in the middle of the morning and called out for the physician but the response was slow in coming. He tried again, his mind going to all sorts of dark places of things that could have happened to the impulsive woman. "Hello?" The answering grunt came from above. "Like a voice from heaven," he joked with relief. All he could see was one hand and a few fingers at the edge of the roof.

"What do you want?" Andie grumbled, rolling over to peer at him from her perch.

Her irritation made him hesitate. "Maybe I'll go find Ensign Black."

Andie peered at him from the roof of her escape pod. "You need medical care? I'll be right down." She swung down and landed lightly on her feet, shaking off the twinge from the muscle strain that had been incurred last night. "I thought you were the newest recruit into the pep squad. They've been stopping by all damn day." She noticed the blood trickling off his hand. "Let's get inside."

He followed her in. "Have people been giving you a hard time?" It was possible that Malcolm had tried to mention something about that last night. Screwing up his face he couldn't recall the entire conversation. Calculations and measurements had buzzed around his head even after he fell asleep.

"It seems that my state of mind is of some concern. Apparently I was supposed to scream and run from that animal yesterday, and since I stayed still and waited for backup _that's_ construed as a clear indication that I'm _cracking up_! The rumor is spreading that I need cheering and at least _four_ different people have been in here this morning, attempting to do just that!" Andie kicked open the door to the exam room with more gusto than necessary. "I can't take it anymore. What happened to your hand?" Her tonal change made his head spin.

"I was swinging my hands through the bushes by that bracken-filled lake up there," he mentioned. He sat where she pointed and waited for her to pull up a case to sit on and whip out a medical scanner. "It's hard to believe you were just waiting for backup. You have been kinda tense lately," he pointed out.

"So has everybody else!" Her voice rose and she clamped her mouth shut to restrain the volume. "You've got a sliver. Let me get some pliers."

"Has Malcolm been in here?" He wondered if Reed was taking this investigation of his too far. Next time the tactical officer started in on the doctor, Trip was going to have to pay attention.

"Yeah, he's been here too. Of course he was just doing a 'weapon's check.'" She made air quotes with her fingers. "I'll bet he's really enjoying the thought that I'm a nutbag!"

"Weapon's check? Does he think the animals are coming back?"

"He said it was just a routine check but between you and me I think he's lying," she muttered. She adjusted the lamp and secured her grip on the nasty splinter. When she tried removing it, Trip winced and cried out. She frowned. "He and Archer have that look." She applied a little lubricant on the wound then tried pulling again. Trip yelped. Andie frowned some more and double-checked her scanner.

"What look?" Trip asked, wincing at the throbbing in his palm.

"FUBAR has a look. They have that look," she assured him. "This is going to hurt."

"No kidding," he muttered.

She applied a hypo to his hand and waited a few seconds before pulling out a scalpel.

"Hey!" he protested.

"Your thorn has an anchor," she explained. "It'll be less painful to cut it out."

Trip cringed and gave back his hand. "So talk to me. Keep my mind of...that." Blood trickled off his palm and he shuddered, studying the ceiling. "You ever make a still?"

"Still what?" she muttered, working quickly.

"A still, like one uses to make whiskey," he went on, trying to stare at the wall.

"Babe, brewing was the first useful thing I learned in medical school," she winked. She pressed a cloth to his hand and reached for a tube. "Are we having a party?"

Trip pulled a pad out of his pocket awkwardly with his uninjured hand. "Can you make this kind of alcohol?" He handed over the relevant page.

She finished pouring the wet enzymatic bandage into the shallow cut before taking the data, placing the hand on the owner's leg to dry. She perused the page carefully. "So we're making rocket fuel?"

"How'd you get rocket fuel outta that?" He twisted his neck to look at the chemical he'd outlined.

Andie eyed him dourly. "You're either making rocket fuel or preparing to go blind. An alcohol this potent might kill you. Mind you, that won't stop me from trying it on the rocks with a twist, of course." She twisted her mouth into a smile.

"Can you do it?" he queried.

"Alcohol can be brewed from a variety of substances: fruit, grains and I think I even have a recipe for a wood-based potion. I'll get a list of possibilities and you can get it to T'Pol. Maybe we can find something that grows here in nature."

Trip didn't make a sound; he just inhaled and held it for a while.

Andie caught on pretty quick. "There a reason you don't want to take this to the first officer?"

"Uh, no." Even he wasn't convinced. He waited for the bevy of questions that he just couldn't answer. He and T'Pol decided to be friends. He was looking forward to their friendship. Right at this moment though he couldn't remember the last time he'd looked her in the eye, let alone carried on a conversation. It was that damn hat that made her look so girly! He had to keep reminding himself that she wasn't a girl; she was a married woman.

The doctor snorted. "Don't sweat it. I've fielded at least three ridiculous rumors about me having problems with Reed because of our 'smoldering sexual tension.'"

_Again with the air quotes_, he snorted silently while she went on. She had misinterpreted his reticence but he certainly wasn't going to correct her. Nor was he going to add his own support to the ridiculous theory about her and Reed either; he didn't have a death wish!

"You're playing it cool; I can respect that." She frowned, paging quickly through the pad with her thumb. "There are ways to speed up the fermentation process, if you can manage the energy requirements."

"How?" he asked eagerly. _If they had a possible way out then they didn't have to worry about conserving power!_

"Are we in a hurry to get out of here? Now _you've_ got that FUBAR look." Andie stared at Tucker and he realized he had given away too much.

Trip sighed. "I don't think I'm good at subterfuge." He wiped his hands over his face, unmindful of the blood he smeared on his cheek from his newly repaired wound. "The natives are arming themselves. Captain doesn't want to wait around to figure out why."

That news wasn't good. She didn't waste time fooling around. "If you can spare a re-sequencer, you can make up a mixture of mash and then reprogram the re-sequencer into a high-speed still. You'll have a decent batch in a few days." Andie wiped his face with a tissue.

"You won't say anything to the crew?" He looked worried. Archer hadn't specifically told him to keep it a secret, but if it was supposed to be common knowledge the captain would have made an announcement at roll call this morning.

"The last time I crashed on an alien world I got thrown into the middle of a civil war that destroyed most of the people I know. I don't think I can do that again. So we should go sooner rather than later if there's trouble brewing here. And I have no intention of speeding up the impending panic."

Trip couldn't help the gut wrench her reminder offered. There were dark circles under her eyes; she'd been thinking of that quite often recently. He reached out a hand to touch hers. "It's going to be okay. Archer and Reed will take care of us."

"If you turn this into a pep talk, I'll go get my scalpel and cut you in half."

The engineer snatched back his hand, flexing his grip and feeling only a twinge of pain in the repaired slit. The dried bandage worked wonders. "Thanks, Doc."

"You want to take this with you?" She rinsed off the splinter and started to hand it back to him. "Hey!" she snatched it out of his grasp. "I'm going to give this to T'Pol. I think this is metal. Where'd you get this?"

"Cat 'o nine tails by the bracken lake," he admitted. "I was just swishing my hand through the tall grass."

"Even the grass is armed," she sighed. "Be careful." She watched him go while chewing on her lower lip.

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Three: Noon_

T'Pol had listened to Andie outline the items she needed and promised to do what she could to see that they were acquired quickly. She automatically took the vial that held the unusual splinter and pad that contained the details for the escape pod and when the human left, tried to concentrate on eating her lunch. She was cold and Vulcan's didn't like to be cold, but more than that, she was struggling to keep focused. Meditating was difficult; unintentionally she kept picking up on the feeling of unease from the crew. Those pilfered feelings left her unsettled.

"Anything I should know about?" Archer inquired, sitting down beside her with a bowl of soup.

"Commander Tucker is working with Ensign Mayweather and Dr. Brainerd to launch an escape pod into the atmosphere."

"What can Andie do?" He sipped his soup carefully. Medical hadn't cleared the re-sequencers for consumption yet and they were still eating emergency ration packs.

"She believes that with the proper equipment she can create a fuel for the launch engines that Trip is working on."

"How's Andie working out?" he queried curiously, mentally calculating how powerful the rocket fuel would have to be to launch the pod through the heavy atmosphere.

"Only two crewmen offered complaints about her today. They believe she is feigning her unease in order to engender sympathy. I believe they may have a personal bias against the doctor. She has been more emotional than usual lately."

"What about our chances? Is there gossip about the likelihood of our getting out of here?" It was always amazing how much information the ladies on board heard through the grapevine. Hoshi was also a good source of knowledge, but as soon as Archer walked into a room, everybody stopped talking and watched him nervously. It was the price of being the leader.

T'Pol set down her bowl. "In an attempt to fill the days, crewmembers have been focusing on gossip to amuse themselves. The only conversations I have overheard have to do with Dr. Brainerd's behavior and the quality of rations and accommodations."

Archer leaned back and sighed, wishing there was a way to follow up the soup with a large slice of cake. The doctor was distracting enough to keep people from worrying. He wondered if that was purposeful or not. Feigning unease for sympathy didn't really strike him as her kind of ploy. "It's good to know that the crew is holding up under the pressure. Andie thought they'd be crumbling by now." He glanced around at the camp. Several women had gathered around to plait loose hair into tidy braids, a group of men had procured a set of cards and were playing poker and there were the endless security patrols keeping an eye on the horizon. Everything was calm.

"How are you feeling?" T'Pol inquired. She was barely listening to his answer; there was an odd feeling in the air, like the world was waiting for something to happen. She supposed that was true; whether or not it was likely, they were all waiting to be rescued. As though the thought of rescue summoned him, Trip stepped out of the forest where he was working with Mayweather. He was looking tired and disheveled. He didn't look pleased.

"I'm hanging in there," Archer nodded reassuringly. He didn't feel that way. Everything ounce of self-preservation he had depended on Trip getting an escape pod to defy physics and be propelled into outer space. If he thought their escape was impossible he might just crumble. He noticed T'Pol watching the engineer and wondered something else. Scuttlebutt in the Expanse indicated that Trip and T'Pol had an affair. He wondered how they might fare with the thought of building homes and establishing a civilization down here if their last ditch effort at rescue failed. They would have lost spouses and families and familiar surroundings. Never had he been more impressed at those people who chose colonization as a way of life. They had to be crazy to do this on purpose.

"Keep me informed," Archer patted T'Pol on the shoulder as he contemplated the change in his duties from captain to governor.

From the corner of the clearing a clamor drew their attention. A small circle of people gathered around a pair of pugilists, sheltering them from view. The disturbance was growing in volume. Archer jumped up and headed over. T'Pol followed at a more respectable pace.

"Take it back!" Ensign Nichols sported a bloody nose and prepared to repay the blow to Crewman Cooper.

"Never!" Cooper howled. "You're out of your mind, boy!" The older man grabbed the younger by the collar and drew him into a headlock.

The younger man punched his attacker in the stomach. They both tumbled to the ground and scuffled in the dirt. Others tried to pull them apart but Nichols gained his footing and rushed Cooper. At a signal from the captain several crewmen stepped in and pulled apart the brawlers.

Archer fumed. "What's going on here?" he demanded.

Both men remained silent, exacerbating the captain's ire. "Talk to me!"

"It's personal, sir," Nichols muttered.

"It's nothing," Cooper mumbled. "We're sorry, sir."

"You're both confined to quarters for the remainder of the day," Archer decreed. "There had better not be another incident of this kind in camp, or I will revisit your punishment!"

He walked away feeling annoyed. The worst he could do was send people to their rooms if they got out of line. The anxiety was definitely getting to them. He was particularly aggravated that he had just been commending their behavior to T'Pol. Perhaps Andie had a point about stress levels, but admitting that she might be right irritated him further. Jon hated being shipwrecked. He was willing to do anything to make this terrible waiting period go away. He spent the rest of the afternoon restlessly prowling with the security patrols, trying to determine where to go from here.

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Three: Evening_

"You're telling it wrong!"

Andie sighed through her clenched teeth. Another day on the ground and she thought she might have to actually kill Ensign Mayweather. She looked at him with an arched eyebrow, not trusting herself to speak civilly to him.

He was politely adamant. "There were _three_ battle cruisers, and they weren't _Klingon_. Humans didn't even know about Klingons until four years ago. If you're going to tell a Boomer legend, you've got to make it believable." Travis was dead serious.

"Two Nausicaan ships chased a loaded freighter into the deadly nebula only to find _one_ Klingon _scout ship_ had barred their path," Andie insisted. "The Klingons took out both the Nausicaans but not before the second ship got off a lucky shot. The damaged Klingon ship was driven into the nebula and broad-sided the freighter which had gotten lost in the atmospheric disturbance!"

"That's not right!" Travis maintained. He considered himself an expert on Boomer legends and felt compelled to correct anyone who told them differently than he'd heard them his whole life.

"Why don't you wait until she's done before correcting her?" Michael Rostov asked impatiently from the other side of the bonfire. The doctor was telling a compelling story and he didn't think the identity of the warring thieves mattered to the outcome. Beside him Ensign Carter sighed and rolled her eyes. She could do with a lot less of these dangerous stories altogether, especially from the doctor.

"What happened when the Klingons hit the freighter?" Henry Bowman asked eagerly.

"There was a huge battle!" Travis interjected.

"There was not!" Andie refuted irritably. "The freighter was full of civilians! None of them knew how to fight, and certainly not against Klingon warriors!"

"That's how the legend goes!" Travis persisted. "The freighter crew fought off the assault by the unknown attackers and left them inside the Nebula of Death to suffer for eternity!"

Andie looked like she might like to leave Mayweather inside the Nebula of Death. With a deep sigh, she rose from her seat at the fire with her fingers splayed out in defeat. "Fine. You finish telling it. I need another cup of coffee."

"Aw, come on, Doc!" Rostov protested weakly, ignoring the dark look of his companion. "Finish telling it your way!"

"No hard feelings," Andie assured him. "Travis is the resident expert on Boomer stories. I'm going to go wheedle an extra dessert packet out of Chef."

"Good luck with that!" Woods mourned his earlier failure in persuading Chef to part with extra dessert rations, and Travis went on, correcting the aspects that he felt Andie had altered.

One pair of eyes watched her leave the campfire. She entered her medical tent and Reed sighed with relief. He had been on guard duty for a while and he spent most of his time just keeping tabs on that damned woman. Knowing she was secured for the evening made him feel better. Her temper had been especially sharp today.

It was very late when he finally headed for his bunk. He was exhausted after the long day, but when he saw a flicker of light outside the circle of habitats disappear around a cluster of rocks, he forgot about his weariness. It was as if a flashlight was held low and covered with one palm. Somebody had slipped out. It was distressing that none of his men had seen it as they claimed to keep secure watch. He reached for his pistol and was frustrated to find his holster empty. With so few weapons, the security staff was sharing them, and he had turned it over to his relief watchmen. Instead of a weapon, he snatched up the blanket from his bedroll and backed out of the tent; the nights were bone-chillingly cold. He had a pretty good idea who would slip away and didn't think carrying a gun would be a good idea anyway.

He might use it on her.

With a few careful steps he made his way through camp and slipped into the darkness where he had last seen the dimmed light, silently cursing Private Finn and his dereliction of duty. He crept up to the shelter of rocks and popped over the top with a hoarse call of glee. He almost got brained by a handheld torch.

The attacker was almost surprised to see him. "What the hell are you doing over here?" Andie grumbled, clutching her blanket around her, although she was fully dressed.

"You were the one who implemented the buddy system and insisted nobody go off by themselves! What are you doing out here?" he countered, wrapping his blanket more securely around his shoulders.

"I was taking a walk," she mumbled, turning around and settling on the ground.

"Alone? In the dark?" Malcolm's tone was definitely skeptical.

Her sigh was heavy when she couldn't think of a good excuse. "Go away, Reed," she threw back her head and leaned against a rock.

"If you don't want to tell me why you left the security of ship's personnel in the middle of the night without an escort, we can go wake Captain Archer and you can tell him."

The air exiting her nose nearly singed her nasal passages. "I can't sleep," she confessed. She was too tired to make anything up.

"I'm not surprised. You're sleeping on a rock," he pointed out.

She turned to look at him then found she had to crane her neck to see him standing over her. Irritably she waved at the ground beside her. Reluctantly he sat down. In the curvature of the rock formation they were hidden from camp, although one scream might bring everybody running. "I was taking a walk in order to stay awake. Ensign Black is going to lose his mind if I do anymore jumping jacks in the tent."

"If you need more rest, why don't you trade shifts with one of your med-techs?" Ever the problem-solver, he thought the solution should have been obvious.

"Actually," she amended "I'd like to sleep but I can't. I have…nightmares."

"We're all under a lot of pressure," Reed reassured her, relaxing at once. Nightmares were something he knew plenty about.

"No, you don't understand," she grumbled. "I don't mean I have bad dreams. I mean when I have nightmares, I wake up screaming. That's something the crew doesn't need right now, for the doctor to be a big ole mess o' crazy." She looked frustrated. "I don't want to go to sleep."

"You fell out of your bunk yesterday," Malcolm suddenly put two and two together. The screech, the swinging hammock, her gray pallor all made sense now. So did the stimulants, coupled with her excessive giddiness at certain times and definitely her growing irascibility. She was exhausted.

"I didn't fall. I fell asleep. I woke up screaming and had to cover. So I tipped my hammock over." She yawned widely. "I can't risk going to sleep in the middle of the Hollow."

"I knew you weren't clumsy enough to fall out of bed!" Malcolm crowed. At her desperate glare, he sobered. "Wait! You've been awake for three entire days? You can't possibly intend to stay awake forever," he pointed out.

"Watch me!" she snapped stubbornly. "I just need another stimulant." She tried scrambling to her feet. It didn't take too much effort to drag her back down beside him.

"Is this a recurring problem? I don't remember hearing about a late night disturbance on board _Enterprise_." He didn't remember seeing any reports about security called for screams before.

"On board ship, I have options," she noted. "Sometimes I take a pill, sometimes a glass of whiskey before bed takes care of the problem." She fell quiet. "The cats have been….They sleep curled up next to my ear and they purr. I don't dream when they purr. Isn't that weird? I ought to make an audio recording…" Her voice drifted away. "I should never have left them."

"You have options out here too."

"Like what?" she asked tersely. "I've already had way too many stimulants lately. Are you going to stay up all night and purr in my ear?"

"Sure," he agreed. At her quick scowl, he smiled a little. "Well, I won't actually purr. But if you bunk down here, I'll keep watch. If you make the slightest signs that you're about to start screaming, I'll wake you."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding!" she scoffed.

"I can't leave you out here by yourself," he pointed out, thinking to have a word with Mackenzie about keeping a closer eye on the woman. "You won't come back to camp." He shrugged. "So I'll be your bodyguard."

Andie was already shaking her head. "Hell no! Thanks for the offer, but no way! I'll just pour a fresh cup of coffee and I'll be fine." She pulled a silver thermos out from under her tunic.

"Are you afraid to be alone with me?" he teased. She opened her mouth to object, but Reed cut her off. "I'm not going anywhere, Doctor. You might as well pour a cup for me too." He pulled a speckled camp mug out of his pocket. He noticed her staring at it in disbelief. "I was about to brush my teeth," he explained. He wiggled it under her nose and was gratified to see she didn't pay too much attention to him in the dark. The night was nearly impenetrable without the torch, and she never noticed him pulling the tab on the zipper near his heart where he'd stored the purloined pill.

If she wasn't so certain that her nightmares would affect everyone within hearing distance, she might have taken him up on his offer to watch over her, she acknowledged, wondering if she could ever bring herself to rely on him like that. Sleeplessness made her clumsy as she tried to fill two mugs from the steaming thermos. Malcolm was very helpful; he held her cup while she attempted to juggle both, handing back her mug when she was settled, relieved that she seemed unaware of his extra movements over her portion.

"Cheers," he lifted his mug in salute, watching her carefully until she drank. She tapped his mug with hers and sipped the hot liquid with a grimace. Last week it would have been unthinkable that she'd ever consume too much coffee, but this excursion was proving interesting in tumbling expectations on their ears.

"How are the tents?" she began a conversation when Malcolm seemed content to just sit beside her.

"They're lovely," he nodded.

"Liar," she chided gently.

"My father believed that an over reliance on creature comforts made a person soft," Malcolm went on. "The first time we stayed in Malaysia we had the opportunity to stay in a proper house with beds, but he chose a native dwelling with straw mats on the floor. He thought discomfort built character. This is quite luxurious by comparison."

"I thought you were from England?" she yawned. Hurriedly she sipped more of the black brew.

"I traveled quite a bit between two worlds when I was younger," Reed admitted.

In spite of her beverage, her eyes were getting heavier. "Isn't England full of rain?" she yawned again. No matter what she did, sleep kept creeping up on her. It was impossible to stay awake. "There are no birds here," she murmured drowsily, her head dropping forward.

He placed an arm on her shoulder and began gently guiding her to the ground. "Don't worry. I'll keep you safe."

"Reed, I don't…"

"You need to get some sleep. You're in no condition to treat anybody else without some rest."

Still protesting weakly, she complied. "This will never work. You don't understand…"

Malcolm never did figure out what he was supposed to understand. She'd fallen asleep in mid-sentence. He studied her for a long minute before removing her medical bag from her shoulders and laying it on the ground for a pillow. He tilted her gently to rest and tucked her thermal blanket around her. When she woke she was likely to give him a completely deserved tongue-lashing for slipping her a sleeping pill without a prescription. She'd assured him it was a mild pill and Reed was pretty certain Archer wouldn't press charges once he heard the circumstances.

One thermal blanket wasn't quite enough to keep out the chill of the evening far from a roaring fire, but Malcolm tucked his hands under his armpits to keep from shivering and shifted to a more comfortable position to wait out the night. She wasn't kidding about her nightmares; less than an hour after her breathing evened out, she began to whimper in her sleep. Her body began to tremble. Malcolm rested a hand on her shoulder. He whispered her name to no avail. Even though Andie was asleep, she really started to flail about, whimpering as well.

Stretching out beside her, Malcolm used his arms and legs to weigh down her limbs. He whispered into her ear. "It's all right. I've got you. You're safe." He whispered over and over, wondering if the soft rumble of his voice would sound like a purring cat. Eventually she rolled over, grasped his lapels and buried her face in his chest. Malcolm wondered if she was aware she was crying silently in her unconsciousness.

He couldn't help the hand that snaked around her back and drew her into his warmth. Malcolm adjusted the blankets to cover them both, telling his judgmental inner voice that it was chilly and she might catch cold. He shifted slightly so that his gun hand was free even if he didn't have a gun to use. Andie wore hers against her thigh. Another long day of worry faded away and Malcolm did something he hadn't done in years. He fell asleep in spite of his intention to stay awake. They slept together under the unfamiliar stars.

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Four: 0400 hours_

Clutching the blanket and burying her head deeper into her pillow, Andie did everything in her power to ignore the crouching figure at her back trying to nudge her into wakefulness. The nudger was persistent though.

"Unless you're holding the world's largest mug of coffee, you're taking your life into your hands by waking me at this hour," she grumbled. She snuggled deeper into her bunk, breathing deeply of the slightly scented covers under her nose. They smelled different this morning; a whiff of cloves tickled her nose. A steady rhythm pulsed under her ear. A warm breath brushed her cheek. Some of the night's events came back. She was not in her bunk; she was lying next to Reed in the middle of the woods. She stiffened.

"Sorry, Doc," Trip Tucker apologized without any remorse. "Some people have gone missing. The Commander and I are trying to round them up." He couldn't help but note how cozy they looked. Reed lay on his side and the doctor was curled up under his chin. Blowing on his hands to bring feeling back into his fingers in the frosty morning air, Trip thought he might be a little jealous of they way they shared heat under two blankets.

Reed's eyes popped open. The morning chill in the air only served to emphasize how warm his cheeks were. _He'd leaned over to whisper in her ear when she was in the throes of a nightmare, too soothe her worries! He hadn't meant to nestle with the woman! Not only was he canoodling with the doctor, but they'd been sleeping when others had gone missing!_ The amusement in his friends' eye went unnoticed by Reed who scrambled to his feet, finding that disentangling himself from the sleeping doctor more difficult than he expected.

"Not to presume your search was inept, but you've checked the latrine and the medical tent, sir?" Reed inquired, trying to smooth his clothes and his hair and snap to a crisp attentive stance.

"Yup," Trip nodded.

"Ensign Sato and I have just completed our initial search." The Vulcan strode into view with the sleepy Comm. officer in tow. "The captain is still missing."

"I'll check with security," Reed muttered, heading out into the dark night. He had to step over Andrea who had yet to move in spite of the disturbance.

"Who's missing?" Dr. Andie grumbled, feeling the vestiges of sleep denying her attempts at wakefulness. Her head felt heavy and light at the same time. She pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders as Trip crouched down in front of her.

"The doctor and the chief of security were missing but they were recently discovered," Trip chided her gently with a grin. He was inappropriately amused at her circumstance. "Who else?" He looked to Hoshi.

The ensign listed a rather long list of names, including Archer, Carter, Mayweather and a few others. When she reached Rostov's name, Andie cursed quietly. Irritably she tossed back her silver thermal blanket and climbed to her feet, swaying just a bit. There was only one thing that would cause this lingering feeling of lethargy making her glad Reed was already gone. She would have pulled out her pistol and shot him with it. Instead she turned on her heel and stomped off in the direction of the far side of the Hollow.

"Where're you goin'?" Trip demanded as he hurried to keep up with her adamant stride. "You can't just take off like that!"

Gritting her teeth, Andie just grabbed his arm and dragged him behind her. In the forest near the gurgling stream, she stopped and glared at the trees. "All right, people! Your absence has been discovered. Get your asses back to camp pronto!" she growled into the darkness.

The only answer was the soft rustling of leaves. Trip looked at her funny. Her eyes were still screwed up funny, like when she had to get up before she was done sleeping. She sounded groggy and really unhappy.

"It's the middle of the night!" she shouted again. "I am awake! I have not had coffee! If I have to come in there after you, there will be no end to the misery I will wreak upon you! I will make your unhappiness my sole mission in life! By the count of ten, every one of you will report directly to Commander T'Pol!"

"Andie, I don't think there's anyone…"

She silenced him by holding up her hand and offering him a dirty look. "One!" she shouted clearly. The furious expression was replaced temporarily by a yawn large enough to crack her jaw. "Two!" she shouted when she was finished.

Trip was about to wonder if she was really awake or if she suffered from some sort of sleepwalking disease when the rustle to his left grew louder. "Three!" Andie bellowed. Two people stumbled out of the bushes, one of whom was straightening their shirt; the other was fumbling with a zipper.

"Doc, I'm sorry," Ian started to apologize as his companion huddled in the semi-darkness.

Andie held up another hand. "Don't talk to me," she snapped. "Check in with T'Pol. I'll deal with you later," she promised. "When I'm not likely to bring back _public hangings_," she hissed. Ensign Black scurried back through the dark trees to the distant light of the main fire pit with his friend. "Four. Five!" she shouted louder.

Trip couldn't help the smirk that creased his face. "I guess that gargling stream offers a little ambience as well as refreshment," he joked. It seemed a fitting payback for all those jokes and innuendos he'd suffered through in previous years with the crew. Ian and his companion weren't the only ones out in the night. Rostov and Carter dashed through the clearing, followed by Mayweather and one of the female maintenance workers.

"Seven!" Andie screeched. Her tone was terse. In spite of the ridiculousness of her whip-cracking demands, she did not find this funny.

"What happened to six?" Mayweather stopped to inquire with a cheeky grin.

"You're getting plenty of that on your own! You don't need me to supply that for you!" At her displeased look, he stopped laughing and hurried back to camp with his head hung down.

"Eight!"

"I guess some people don't need a gurgling stream to get them in a romantic mood," Trip murmured. He ignored the death glare she sent his way.

"It wasn't like that," she muttered when he seemed content to wait for an answer.

"I'm sure it was all business," Trip chortled.

"It was," she agreed stubbornly.

"He was just seeing to your security _personally_," Trip went on, making her glower deepen.

"Actually he was performing a medical procedure," she retorted darkly, making Trip choke on his own laughter.

"Wouldn't a tent be better for a full exam?" he giggled.

"It wasn't like that," she fumed. He was immune to her fits of temper by now, and continued chuckling as she finished the last few numbers and followed the stragglers back to camp. "Don't make me hurt you, Tucker."

"Oh, come on!" he protested, whispering into her ear as they approached the congregation gathered around the main fire pit. "It's too early to kick my ass." He giggled again, intending to leave her with that pithy bit, but her hand snaked around his arm before he could depart.

"I can make the time, Tucker," Andie murmured in a sinister way.

Trip stopped chortling. It was clear the doctor was not in a teasing mood at the moment. He tucked his hands into his pockets before moving to confer with the Vulcan.

Malcolm watched the lovers parting and looked away before he could be seen spying. His actions last night had been reprehensible and there was no excuse for them. He could only hope that something had not been permanently damaged. _Between Commander Tucker and Dr. Brainerd,_ he assured himself. _They made a lovely couple._

Andie stumbled back to the medical tent. Pushing aside the flap, she expected to see Crewman Cutler on duty, but there was nobody there. She checked both pods attached to the tent, verifying their emptiness. She was just about to raise an alarm when Cutler came through the flap.

"Where were you?" Andie demanded curtly.

"Private Finn had some difficulties," Liz stammered, worried by the expression on the doctor's face.

"What kind of difficulties?" Andie demanded.

"Dinner didn't agree with him. I met him in the latrine." Liz held up the hypo that contained the medicine for gastro-intestinal maladies. "Again," she added unnecessarily.

The intended lecture about responsibility took a back seat to another large yawn. Andie shook off her weariness and pulled the small pot of water off the stove top, pouring a beaker of liquid over a small mound of brown powder in a fresh mug. Instant coffee was hardly on the same level as a genuinely brewed cup of Joe but it would have to do. Before she could finish her first sip, the tent flap opened again.

T'Pol entered, followed by Trip and Malcolm. Hoshi waited outside, gesturing for Liz to join her. "We have recovered all but the captain," T'Pol announced in a low voice, to prevent word from leaking out to the rest of the crowd. It was a useless gesture. With a ship this small and with nothing but conversation to fill the time, the information was bound to leak.

As if to prove her theory, Hoshi's voice carried through the closed tent flap. "And Porthos!" At the silence that followed her pronouncement she fell silent and resumed her stance outside.

Andie was checking the medical logbook. "Liz? Archer was in here with a headache?"

Cutler poked her head back into the tent. "Yes, Doctor. I applied the regular dose of analgesic and he left to walk Porthos."

"When exactly did you see Captain Archer?" Reed's tone was crisp. It was that tone that made most crewmen shiver when they heard it, and stand up straighter.

"I don't know exactly when, sir," Liz replied, her eyes widening. "Without a standardized chronometer in here, I can't be certain."

Reed huffed and shot a dirty look at the CMO, although she had not replied to this questioning. 'Time is irrelevant' was a favorite speech of the doctor's. Cutler took it as an excuse to retreat from the discussion and wait outside with Hoshi.

"So he was walking Porthos and he went missing," Trip repeated again. "We should send out a search party."

"Do we know in which direction he began his journey?" T'Pol inquired.

"None of the MACO's on watch saw anything," Reed confirmed. "They would have notified someone if they'd seen the captain wandering around. Of course, I have my doubts that they would have seen a herd of buffalo run through camp tonight. It seems everyone was able to disappear, including the MACOs on watch." He couldn't help the sidelong glance at the physician. She was stone-faced; he was pretty certain she knew what he had done although she had not yet called attention to it.

"Finn was indisposed. Archer could have walked out this side of camp." Andie stated. "Does the captain go missing often?"

"He wanders off on occasion," Trip offered. "He usually comes back saying that he met with Daniels."

"Daniels?" Andie repeated. "_Dead Crewman_ Daniels?" Her tone conveyed incredulity.

The other three nodded and shuffled their feet.

"I don't know which concerns me more: that Archer has hallucinations of dead men or that you all know about it and have said nothing to Starfleet." Andie snorted.

"He's not dead, exactly!" Trip protested. "Daniels is a time traveler!"

"A _time traveler_?" Andie repeated with the same skepticism she used for dead crewmen walking.

"Actually he claims to be working for the Temporal Agency. They police the timeline and keep things in order," Reed interjected. He didn't like her skeptical tone of voice. She hadn't known Daniels so she couldn't possibly understand what their previous dealings had been like. Besides she seemed to be misinterpreting Archer's faculties with regards to the matter.

"Temporal Agency?" Andie repeated. "You do know that the Vulcan Science Directorate has deemed time travel impossible?"

"The Vulcan Science Directorate may be changing their views on that. I have traveled through time with Captain Archer at the behest of Crewman Daniels," T'Pol intervened.

"The infamous Detroit incident during your mission in the Expanse last year?" Andie noted. "You expect me to believe that you were sent back in time by a dead crewman?"

"He was not dead at the time," T'Pol retorted.

"You met Daniels then?" the doctor persisted.

"I did not," T'Pol refuted. "But how else would Archer and I have been able to stop the biological attack without him?"

"The Xindi were working with the aid of extra-dimensional beings. Those Dimensional beings sent Xindi back in time. Perhaps there was a faction working against them to our benefit. You have no proof but Archer's word that Daniels exists."

"The captain doesn't lie!" Reed burst out.

"You take a lot on faith," Andie noted, looking at him steadily.

"Captain Archer is truthful," T'Pol stated clearly.

"He never lies?" Andie turned back to the Vulcan.

T'Pol hesitated. While attempting to regain Commander Tucker and the frozen princess Kaitaama, she had assisted Archer in a prevarication to frighten an alien into confessing the frequency of their warp drive. When the captain and Reed had been caught by a pre-warp species, they pretended to be genetically enhanced soldiers in order to buy time for a rescue attempt. And she had contributed to the effort to kidnap Degra and implement an intricate prevarication to learn the location of the planet where the Xindi were creating the planet-destroying weapon. All she could say was that Archer did not prevaricate without good reason.

The silence of the alien was all Andie needed to know. "Right," she grunted, rubbing her forehead and sipping her instant coffee. If they threw time travel into their current travesty, she might just sprout wings and fly home!

"You don't think Daniels is involved in this?" Trip spoke up.

"You tell me. I've never spoken to the dead man." Andie remained cool under Reed's increasing wrathful gaze.

"I don't believe this is Daniels' doing. The captain's usually back before we have a chance to notice he's missing," Reed spat the words out. "Don't turn this into something more sinister because of your lack of respect for our captain!"

"You would prefer that I concentrate on the fact that Archer left camp without a word to anyone instead? He wandered off alone against the recommendation of his chief medical officer _and_ his first officer _and_ his tactical officer?" It hadn't escaped Andie's notice that he had not included her in the crew working under Archer. She was still an outsider. She ignored the way that stung.

"Hey!" Trip broke in. "Let's keep this calm and professional. He'll probably turn up at any minute."

Reed looked directly at T'Pol. "I'll gather a few supplies. A small party will head out immediately with a larger party following as soon as the sun rises."

"You don't even know which way he went," Andie protested coolly.

"Mountain, cliffs, lake," Malcolm pointed in three different directions and named the geological features along each bearing. "He had Porthos with him so he would have headed for the easiest path. That leads downhill." He pointed in the fourth direction. "We'll need a scanner and at least two phase pistols," he told T'Pol.

The Vulcan frowned. "Two phase pistols would leave the camp less than accurately defended," she stated. That would leave two pistols and three rifles.

"I'm going with Malcolm," Trip volunteered.

"You can't be serious!" Andie scoffed.

"The captain and I have been friends for a very long time," Trip told her seriously. "If anyone could figure out which path he might have taken, it'd be me."

"You're just going to let two more senior officers wander off into the dark?" She demanded of T'Pol.

"Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed have proved to be very capable in bad situations," T'Pol answered quietly. She didn't reiterate that their capability was also the thing that had them labeled a disaster. "I will remain in charge of the crew. We will be fine until they return." She looked at Reed, tapping his feet now, impatient to be off. "You will check in by noon tomorrow, with or without the Captain," she told him.

"Understood," he nodded. Ignoring Andie's frown, he gestured at Trip and they headed for the tent flap to prepare.

"This will not be good for crew morale," Andie told the alien woman, standing so silently by.

"They will be fine," T'Pol assured her, wishing she was as certain as she sounded. By the mulish look on the physician's face, T'Pol didn't think it mattered. Stepping out into the cold night air, she took in the wide eyes on Cutler and subtle tension on Sato's face. If they were showing signs of concern this early in the deployment of searchers, the rest of the crew could be expected to show signs of unease as well. The doctor was right; the crew would worry. There were no closed doors to hide behind here.

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow: Medical Tent_

_Day Four: 0430 hours_

"This is a light painkiller," Andie held up another vial and stared at her two charges. She had insisted on a brief refresher course in primitive treatment before they left. "Heavy painkiller," she held up another. "Anti-venom, anti-itch, anti-biotic," she pointed at three more. "Bone splints, bandages, topical analgesic…"

"We've had the basic first aid course," Trip interrupted with a sigh. Any minute now the captain would stroll back into camp and laugh at their worry, but if he didn't, then he needed help. He needed it now, and not in several hours time or whenever the crazy doctor got finished with her needless tutorial.

"I've had the advanced course," Malcolm supplied impatiently.

"Do you have a medical degree?" Andie snapped. She didn't wait for their refusal. "Then you're going to listen!"

Reed could see she was upset. The thought of how she worried for him would have warmed his heart, but he was pretty certain that her worries were focused on the tall man beside him. Trip was fuming silently; he could be prickly when he was worried and he was very concerned about the captain. Reed wanted to forestall any arguments. "I'll bring him back to you," Reed promised. She would be reunited with Trip. He'd make certain of that.

Obviously Andie hadn't gotten as much sleep as she thought, because Malcolm Reed was talking nonsense! She didn't know why he'd thought she would be particularly worried about the captain, but he seemed to think she had some particular interest in his safe return. _It could be the crazy way you're delaying their departure, _her inner voice chided_._ If Andie could have slapped that voice in her head, she would have. Delaying their leave would not eradicate the need for it.

"Don't go! Wait until morning," she urged stiffly.

"Dawn might be too late," Reed told her.

"It's stupid to wander around in the dark!" Andie turned to T'Pol. "I can't believe you're letting them go! With the captain gone, that makes half the senior staff that's disappeared!"

Malcolm jumped in. "You consistently underestimate this crew," he told her. He had a feeling that her anger toward him was making her nastier this morning than she would otherwise have been and was determined that she wouldn't take her ire out on anyone else but him.

"You overestimate their ordinary human hearts!" she countered bitterly.

"Their human hearts have done pretty well so far! You think you know people so well, but you've just had some bad experiences that make you overly cautious," Trip offered.

"Like getting mick'ed?" she snapped, glaring at Reed. "Yeah, I'm way off about humanity!"

"You're human too, you know," Trip pointed out, unmindful of the sleeping pill she spoke of.

"Half human!" she corrected, darting a glance at Reed. "And not the better half!"

Malcolm looked at her curiously. "What's the other half?"

"Martian!" she growled.

"Right," Malcolm exhaled. She'd been born in the atmosphere of the red planet and preferred to align her loyalties with those colonists rather than the mother planet. Not that it mattered; their genetic structure was the same. If it made her feel better, he wasn't going to argue with her now. He tucked the first aid kit into his pack and turned on his heel, deciding she had finished imparting any useful wisdom.

"If this is how he wakes up in the morning, I don't blame you for not wanting a thing to do with him." Trip couldn't resist the tease, even knowing she would probably snap one day and clobber him. He'd never held back with his sisters before either. Even if he came away bruised, it would always be worth the reaction he got. "Wish us luck."

"Bite me!" Andie offered petulantly. She and T'Pol helped the two men slip out the back of the medical tent and disappear over the hillside more or less undetected by the rest of the crew. When the sun rose, T'Pol would send out a MACO tracking party. The women dropped the flap and stood in the semi-dark and quiet space.

"They are coming back." T'Pol looked at the doctor out of the corner of her eye. "The senior officers will return and resume command. Everything will be back to its regular order."

"Frightened people are dangerous people." Andie knew that better than anyone on board _Enterprise_. "You should keep them busy."

The women stood in silence looking out at the nearly deserted camp. Only a couple of MACO's could be seen standing on pod roofs, looking out at the darkness, trying to ascertain threats before they entered camp.

"Will you be meditating this morning?" Andie inquired.

"I will forego meditation. I should be here when the crew begins to wake." T'Pol answered. Her insides were churning; she couldn't have focused on a single thing anyway.

"Then how about we raid the stores and get a cup of tea?" Andie suggested. "It's going to be a long wait." She started for the Mess tent and T'Pol reluctantly followed after.


	9. Chapter 9

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter Nine

* * *

_In pursuit of Archer_

_Day Four: 10:56 hours_

The tarnished sun had cleared the horizon wiping away the worst of the evening mist as Trip and Malcolm made their way through the rusty morning. Malcolm carried a phase pistol and Trip clutched a scanner set to detect life signs in a wide dispersal pattern. A canine paw print had been detected and the pair of humans hurried along the trail like bloodhounds on the scent of prey, watching the twin streams of breath leave their mouths in vaporous trails that dispersed as quickly as their quarry. The chilly dawn air had given way to a brisk and bitter morning, but it didn't deter them; they sped on as quickly as their uncertain footing and whimsical trail could take them.

They had been studying a large bush for several precious minutes until they realized that Porthos had spent a hefty portion of time wandering around this particular shrubbery. Malcolm sighed in frustration. "I think that dog made its mark on every single tree in this forest!"

"It's what he does best," Trip agreed unhelpfully, heaving air into his lungs. "Mind if we take a break?"

"Sure, I've lost the trail again anyway," Malcolm muttered. Trip lowered himself to a log and breathed into his cupped hands to warm them while Malcolm continued to scan the surrounding area. The profusion of rock embedded in the hillside jutted out at random occurrences like teeth that threatened to chew them up and their progress had been slow. The sharp hewn hills came to an end here near the edge of the forest, sloping away on one side to end in a sudden steep drop into a ravine and reaching out in the other direction to end in a dark, flat plain in the distance. Both men refused to speak their similar fears that they might have to search the bottom of the nearby chasm for the remains of their leader. The barren desolation in front of them echoed the grim emptiness beginning to take hold inside their hearts that the captain could not be found.

"If we don't turn back soon, we're going to miss T'Pol's deadline," Malcolm mentioned, staring out at the bleak landscape.

"I'm not going back until we find the captain," Trip jutted out his chin mulishly. Malcolm turned a sharp eye toward his friend but said nothing, wordlessly indicating that going back empty-handed would not be his preferred option either.

"Maybe we should'a spread out a little more," Trip went on, twisting his head to relieve the ache in his neck. "Give people more privacy." He knew that Archer liked to be alone when he was worried, and losing the ship was plenty to worry about. Maybe if he'd kept a closer eye on Archer this wouldn't have happened.

"What are you talking about?" Malcolm queried tensely. He'd been particularly stiff all morning as he waited for that other shoe to drop.

"The Hollow," Trip answered. "Maybe we should have made some more room for people to maneuver, you know, give them some space."

"If you ask me, every single one of those crewmen ought to be put on report," Malcolm murmured darkly. He knew he should never have been one of them. He should have dragged that damned woman back to camp by her hair, rather than remain out there with her! Maybe if he hadn't been distracted, the captain wouldn't be out here all alone.

"Does that include the captain?" Trip smirked.

Reed considered that. "Maybe it does!" he answered defiantly. As soon as he spoke the words, his chest deflated and he knew that he would never be able to bring the captain up on report.

"Does that include you?" Trip probed devilishly. Andie's unintended assertion that she found the armory officer interesting offered him no end of amusement but he never expected to find the pair of them cuddling in the woods together.

"I wasn't breaking protocols," Malcolm corrected his friend defensively. "I was protecting them."

"You mean you were protecting _her_?" Trip specified with a smirk.

"That damned woman can get into more trouble!" Malcolm growled. His voice trailed away as he realized he could put off this conversation no longer. Drawing a deep breath, he fortified himself for the exchange to follow. "I'm sorry you found us together like that. It wasn't my intention."

"Don't worry about it," Trip swallowed another mouthful of water from his canteen before corking it and putting it back in his pack. "I thought it was _interesting_." His mouth twitched as he used the doctor's word in a private joke.

Malcolm didn't get the joke and wouldn't have found it particularly funny if he had. "She was having trouble sleeping!" Malcolm went on determinedly.

"You two looked pretty cozy," Trip teased mercilessly. "She seemed to sleep just fine with you there."

"I did not take advantage of your girl!" Malcolm insisted. "I would never do something like that. She was having trouble sleeping and I watched her..."

"MY WHAT?" The shock caused a few seconds' delay for the words to translate to his brain.

"Your what what?" Malcolm repeated, confused.

"Andie's not my girl!" Trip protested starkly. "She's not my...anything!"

"But you're always together!" Reed burst out. "Every time I turn around, you're with her!"

"Keeping an eye on us?" The smirk returned. It was nice to take a break from his worries for just a minute to taunt his friend.

"You're hard to miss!"

Trip choked back the chuckle that threatened, and looked out over the valley ahead of them. The dry, red dirt choked out across the landscape as far as the eye could see. Except for this patch of woodland they landed on, the planet could be mistaken for a desert. "Doc reminds me of Lizzie," he said quietly. The smile would not be repressed. "Sometimes she reminds me of a professional wrestler, but mostly she reminds me of Lizzie. I just keep thinking back to my baby sister and how I always wanted to protect her, but she always had this attitude that she could take care of herself, and I know Andie's not the real thing, but it's nice to reminisce now that it doesn't hurt so bad."

Malcolm was silent for a few seconds as he stared across the same landscape as the commander. "So you're not…You and the doctor…There isn't..." he couldn't finish the sentence, or explain the sudden leap in his chest.

"Not even a little bit," Trip cut him off quickly. He cast another sly look at his friend. "I know for a fact she's got the hots for somebody else."

The leap in his chest suddenly dropped into his boots. "She does?" Malcolm queried. It was hard to disguise the desolation in his voice. He couldn't think of any topic that might safely divert that line of questioning, so he checked the flashing lights on the scanner in his hand. "I think they went this way."

Tucker got to his feet to follow Reed down the hill in the direction he'd pointed. They cleared the trees and slipped a little on the gently rounded slope. Several kilometers away as the foothills stretched into plains, something kicked up dust at the edge of the gorge.

"Commander…what's that?" Reed's interest in the engineer's love life was averted by the sight taking place. Even from this distance the primary combatant was familiar. "That looks like the captain!"

Trip followed Reed's glance. The blue jumpsuit and vague outline of the person in question was unmistakable. "Yeah it does. It looks like he could use some help too. Let's go!"

The men took off.

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Four: 11:42 hours_

Waiting was the worst. Waiting was always hard. The time crawled by slowly. At dawn T'Pol had selected two marines to follow Tucker and Reed. They had not yet returned and the noon hour was fast approaching.

The crew had been surprised to find several members absent from the required morning roll call, but they took their cue from the Commander who didn't seem to be concerned. Nobody mentioned the stern visage of the second in command, not even when she pulled aside both Hess and Truax and conferred with them privately before breakfast. The women were currently in charge of Engineering and the Armory respectively in the absence of the department heads, but whatever T'Pol told them they did not share with the others. Instead they kept their own counsel and disappeared over the hillock where Commander Tucker had been working yesterday.

A half dozen or so crewmembers were called before the XO and lectured somberly about the appropriate times and places to fraternize, specifying that not a single instance would occur anywhere on this planet. After the speech, they picked up shovels from the quartermaster per instructions and began silently digging holes just outside the confinement of camp. The rest of the crew decided that these deep holes served as tiger traps in order to avoid any more alien carnivores from entering camp, but nobody dared ask for confirmation. The air was charged with tension but everybody kept their head down and tried to keep calm. The morning hours crawled by and there was nothing more to do but wait for the time to pass.

"Deep holes will provide opportunity for a crewmember to fall inside and receive injuries." Andie mentioned casually as she sat down next to T'Pol, balancing a tray of food on her lap. Ian Black had been ousted from his regular duties to dig holes with the others, and she'd been busy. She'd spent the large part of the morning inside the Medical Tent. Bowman's hands were released from their bandages with the admonition that he keep his wounds clean and dry to the best of his ability. Ensign Carter had resentfully admitted to a mysterious rash, no doubt acquired in the darkness beyond camp, and had earned a reprieve from digging to have it checked.

"Not if they stay in camp where they belong," T'Pol answered shortly. "What's wrong with your hand?" Her own hands were wrapped firmly around a mug of tea that had long since gone cold in an attempt to still their restlessness. She'd spent too much time twirling the vial containing the metal sliver that Andie had pulled from Tucker's hand yesterday; it was the last link she had to the search party and her reliance on such a talisman made her irritable and had forced her to occupy her hands elsewhere.

"Nothing," Andie answered defiantly, squeezing her hand into a fist to hide the tremble. Since she'd waked to find that Reed had drugged her for her own good, she'd been less inclined to rely on stimulants any further. The nearly constant consumption had created an imbalance in her system and she'd spent the morning fighting off the twitches that accompanied the expected crash. "I'm fine." She was privately thankful that her medical records were not required to be entered by hand; her penmanship would have suffered today.

"How is Finn?" T'Pol inquired, ignoring the obvious falsehood. The MACO private who had spent the largest portion of the evening in the latrine, thus allowing several members of the crew to wander away undetected, had been admitted to a permanent bed in the Medical Tent.

"Right now he's resting quietly," Andie answered quietly. "The atmosphere of this planet doesn't agree with him. For now I've increased his dosage of anti-rads and there's nothing left to do but hope for the best. At the moment he's the only one, but I expect there to be others. And no, we don't have the medical supplies to administer a constant demand from the entire crew. Unless we reprogram a protein re-sequencer, and that would take needed supplies away from food rations and rescue efforts." She sipped her water bottle. "How's Carter?" The pretty ensign had stomped out of the medical tent and made straight for the Vulcan before returning to her hole-digging duties.

"She continues to be vocal with her displeasures. She does not like being dirty or performing manual labor," T'Pol answered with a trace of irritation. Any Vulcan would be performing whatever tasks were necessary to survival, but the vane linguist was having trouble adapting to the rough circumstances. "She bears a particular grudge against you."

"Who doesn't?" Andie snorted unconcernedly.

A noise was heard from the edge of the wooded area. In spite of their attempts to remain nonchalant, T'Pol and Andie were on their feet in a heartbeat, craning their necks to see. Security tightened their perimeter to intercept the oncoming unknown element with firepower if necessary. It was Mackenzie who lifted a hand to stay the others; she looked back at T'Pol and gave a nod with her chin.

Into the center of camp rushed one tired beagle, followed at a distance by two MACO guards. The dog's coat was matted and dirty, and blood seeped out of several stripes along his sides. His tongue hung out of his mouth as his chest heaved for air. As Porthos lapped up a full pan of water and wagged his tail listlessly, Andie did what she could to repair his wounds as Hoshi soothed him by rubbing his ears. Most were shallow cuts caused by thorns except for four gashes on his rump, and the doctor could not deny the possibility that one of the carnivorous creatures had clawed him.

T'Pol didn't wait for the canine's update before demanding an explanation from Corporal Woods. The marine kept his tone even as he related how they had followed the torn vegetation and scattered earth on a trail determined to be Tucker and Reed's until they came to a steep stone barrier where the trail ended. Upon attempting to scale the barrier, Corporal Parsons had lost her footing and twisted her knee. Woods had been forced to assist her back to camp. The dog had overtaken them a short distance back, tearing through the trees as though the hounds of hell were after him and yapping his fool head off.

"So you don't know what happened to Commander Tucker, Lieutenant Reed or the captain?" T'Pol verified curtly. Woods had the good sense to look disgraced and was released to help his companion to the medical tent. The Vulcan pressed her lips together and considered her options. What she would like to do was to grab a phase pistol and head out after them herself. But although she'd nearly made a decision like that before, attempting to take a shuttle to Azati Prime to search for the captain after he'd gone missing, she had no intention of making the same emotional decision as before.

Looking around she noticed several pairs of eyes watching her. There would be no hiding this incident from the others. Those who hadn't already figured out that the captain was missing were soon clued in by whispers that fluttered around camp like a spring breeze. They might be only able to wonder what had happened to the man that was supposed to lead them out of here and take them home, and they could only speculate about what trouble Reed and Tucker had gotten into this time to keep them from returning with the man in charge, but there was little to deter them from speculation. T'Pol did what she could to allay fears but there was nothing factual she could offer to reassure them.

As the day wore on, tempers grew short as fear tightened its grip on the camp. Crewmen were sniping over the least of offences and the whispers continued unabated, each more fantastical and gory than the last. People were secretly taking bets on who would be the next taken and whether or not any of the missing would be returned. Others filled in their time wondering if it was only a matter of time before each and every one of them disappeared into some wretched and unavoidable fate. There was an unspoken assertion that whatever had happened to the others would soon happen to them; there was nothing to do but wait around to be picked off one by one.

"Oh my God!" Haley Carter whispered into the small circle outside her pod quarters as the sun dropped down to the horizon. "Anything that might happen to us is better than this endless waiting!" Michael Rostov remained quiet at her side, earning him a gently poke in the ribs. "Archer and then Tucker and Reed? Who's next? T'Pol? Truax? Hess?"

"Doctor Andie?" Henry Bowman supplied with concern, grateful to hold his hands out to the crackling flames without worrying about setting his bandages on fire.

"She doesn't count," Carter insisted coldly. "She's not a member of the senior staff!" Again she looked to Rostov to chime in on her behalf but he remained silent. _What kind of boyfriend was he, not to immediately take her side?_

"Yes she is!" Henry objected. "She's the Chief Medical Officer."

"Temporary CMO!" Carter refuted. "And I wouldn't want her to lead anyway. She's a disaster! She's probably involved somehow!" So many bad things had gone wrong with their mission ever since that woman had come on board, it was hard to come to some other conclusion.

"Careful, Haley," Hoshi looked up from the data pad she'd been studying to interrupt quietly from the other side of the fire.

"You have to admit that disaster follows her everywhere!" Carter huffed.

"If you spread rumors that the doctor is involved in the disappearance of the captain when she's not, you could be in some serious trouble," Lola Shannen added. She quickly backed up her superior, Ensign Sato, without hesitation. Carter had been stirring up her own brand of trouble ever since they'd landed, and it didn't seem to be lessening with time, although all her anxieties seem to have settled on the physician as a scapegoat.

"Michael!" Haley wailed softly, looking at her man with wide eyes, silently pleading with him not to leave her defenseless.

"You don't have any proof that anything bad happened to the captain or that the doctor was responsible," Mike sighed, knowing he'd be paying for this conversation later. "You should probably keep your thoughts to yourself until you get some proof to back it up."

She shrank back from her man with a huff of air. "You can't be defending her! She was out last night, same as we were, but you didn't see her lifting so much as a single shovel full of dirt, did you?" That may have been at the heart of her consternation. _Why should that other woman get preferential treatment? Was it due to her famous surname?_

"She probably had a better reason for being gone than we did," Mike answered shortly. Haley was beautiful but she blew hot and cold faster than anyone else he knew. The phrase 'high-maintenance' was never far from his conscious thoughts when he was with her.

"Supper's ready." A new voice rang out from above their huddled forms. The doctor herself stood there and looked at the grouping. "Chicken and potatoes," she added unnecessarily as they continued to stare at her with some guilt and concern over what she might have heard.

"We got the re-sequencer working? Excellent!" Rostov didn't have to force his grin as he leaped to his feet. "I'm starving!" He hurried off to the chow line after offering a hand up to both Hoshi and Lola but leaving Haley when she irritably waved away his helpful gesture.

"Everything all right?" Andie inquired, looking especially hard at Carter.

"I've got blisters and I'm itchy!" Carter snapped, holding out her damaged hands.

"You'll be fine," Andie assured her. She offered a cool smile, ignoring Carter's dirty look, before continuing her walk around camp to inform the crew. Night was falling quickly tonight and there was heaviness in the air that suggested a storm might be brewing.

After completing her walk around the camp, Andie headed back to the Medical Tent. Ensign Black and Crewman Cutler were released from their duties to make the most of the newly operational re-sequencer and she was grateful for the solitude. She made her rounds in the tent, checking supplies and straightening shelves and poking at the fire. Having run out of things to do, she sat down and picked up her knitting needle. The crew didn't need anymore of those simple head coverings she'd been making but it was important to give her hands something to do. The third time she dropped a loop, she threw down the yarn and went back to restlessly pacing the small confines of her area, relentlessly checking and rechecking the supplies and readiness of the medical center. She'd checked the bandage supply at least three times before exhaling noisily and picking up the data pad that T'Pol had sent to her. The sliver of metal she'd pulled out of Trip's hand was a particular blend of materials; all signs point toward a man-made metal, but it had been growing out of the weedy grass beside the lake as though it belonged there. This whole planet was giving her the heebie-jeebies.

She could even believe that she heard someone rustling around on the other side of the fabric wall that made up the central waiting room.

Actually the more she listened, the more it really did sound like someone's foot brushing through the dirt just outside the thin barrier. Looking around cautiously, she couldn't decide whether or not to call for assistance although her hand did slide closer to her mag-pulse pistol with the genetic recognition grip, thumbing loose the thin strap that kept the gun tucked in its holster, even as she wished for the familiar balance of its mate on her other hip. Only one such weapon had made it down to the planet and she would have to hope she wouldn't need it. Her medical assistants weren't expected back from dinner so soon. It could just be a guard who'd taken a walk, or a pair of lovers seeking sanctuary in the growing darkness, even though T'Pol's stern lecture this morning should have put thoughts of those excursions to rest.

Reaching out one hand, she lowered the lamplight, leaving the tent in semi-darkness. The other hand primed the trigger impulse on her weapon, cupping the barrel to silence the brief whine as it powered up, before gripping it firmly and bringing it up in preparation for action. The bright lights that illuminated the Hollow left everything outside the ring of pods and tents in darkness, but there was definitely a hand reaching out of the shadows, inching toward the loose flap of cloth that comprised the rear wall of her tent.

It was difficult to determine who was more surprised at the person on the other side of the tent flap: Doctor Andie or Commander Tucker. Given the stubborn set of her chin, and the unwavering barrel of a strange weapon, it was the engineer who had more to be worried about than the physician.

"Don't shoot!" he whispered, holding up one arm awkwardly. He looked around quickly as she lowered her pistol. "Where's everybody?"

"Dinner," she answered in the same breathy whisper. "Where the _hell_ have you been?"

"Long story," he continued to whisper, slipping inside the tent but not stepping further into the chamber. "I need you to come with me now. The captain needs you!"

"I'll call the MACOs," Andie nodded, stepping back to do just that.

"No!" Trip's choked bark stopped her short. "Nobody else, just you." He found himself suddenly looking at the dangerous end of a weapon barrel pointed at his nose with concern.

"Who are you and what have you done with the Commander?" Andie growled softly, holding the gun steady.

"Captain's orders, Andie," he sighed. "There's no time to explain. I need you to come with me before anyone else discovers I'm here. There isn't time for explanations and it's important."

Andie took a long, hard look at the southern gentleman. His face was red and sweaty and he cradled one arm. It must be causing him terrible pain, but he didn't say a word about his arm. He was only concerned about the captain. He wouldn't come to her without orders, and she decided to play along. She had promised the captain that much just a few days ago.

"Let me get my bag," she conceded, holstering her weapon. "What are his injuries?" Her voice sounded hollow as she disappeared into the escape pod that served as an exam room.

"I don't know," Tucker sighed, casting an anxious glance at the main entrance to the Medical Tent. "Some cuts and bruises. Bring your poison kit!"

She took so long to return that Trip started to panic. "Andie?"

"I'm here," she said serenely, shouldering her pack with familiar ease. Drawing the green hood of her tunic over her head, she gestured with her chin that Tucker should precede her. "Let's go," Andie indicated.

Trip lifted the bottom of the tent flap and slipped into the dark. Andie followed behind him. On the far side of camp several crewmen fussed over a light generator that seemed to have ceased to function and several guards had been called in to monitor the dark area so nobody noticed the stealthy pair slipping out on the well-lit boundary.

"That was fortuitous," she remarked quietly.

"It wasn't fortune," Trip grunted. "It was a small rock."

She took the implication to mean that he had rendered the light inoperable in order to facilitate their escape from a well-guarded camp. Reed would be displeased that his MACO's let them get away a second night in a row, Andie thought. The thought that her absence would cause T'Pol great distress gave her a twinge, but she tried to console herself with the idea that this was the captain's idea. There wasn't much time to ponder for their path took them straight out of the well lit circle of the Hollow and into total darkness of an uneven and unfamiliar terrain. Just to be safe, Trip didn't ignite his torch until they were well and truly away from prying eyes, and until then the irregular surfaces littered with branches and rocky shoals caused several stubbed toes and muttered curses.

Once he felt safe turning on his flashlight, Trip moved as quickly as he was able, cradling one arm against his chest. He was missing his quilted jacket and he must be freezing, but he didn't say a word as he moved swiftly through the forest. When Andie determined that they were far enough from camp, she stopped short and caught his healthy arm.

"We have to hurry!" Trip turned back immediately.

"You're injured," Andie pointed out, digging in her pack.

"I'm fine!" he hissed.

"You're not," Andie disagreed. "We'll move faster when you've received medical care. Hold still." Standing on a flat rock, she pulled out a scanner and checked his forearm. The machine indicated a fracture. "Why me?" She demanded answers even as she dug into her bag.

"Cap'n said someone needed your help," Trip panted.

"Why not take a team of marines?" She wanted so many answers she couldn't hardly remember all the questions.

"I think he's hoping to contain the cultural contamination."

"By putting our lives at risk? Does that seem strange to you?" she frowned before slipping his forearm into a temporary cast and fastened the adjustable closures. He gasped as the binding closed around the breakage. She applied a hypo to his neck with swift movements and slipped a sling around his neck in a short time.

"Thanks," he sighed with relief. "We've got to move." He ignored her last question. Truth was he was beginning to wonder what the captain was up to. He just hadn't had the opportunity today to ask the hard questions.

"Take this," Andie ordered, offering a hypo-spray. "If the pain gets worse, use it. A full ampoule will fell an elephant. Take these, too." She offered him a couple of silvery pouches that Tucker didn't need illumination to recognize as emergency rations. He nodded his thanks in the dim light and tucked the pouches into his pockets. Andie snapped her case shut, dropped it back into her satchel and swung it onto her back. "Talk to me, Tucker. Tell me what I'm getting into."

"Archer tried to help a man. He was captured. Reed and I tried to free him. We were captured. The captain said you were a doctor and that you could help. I got away and Archer told me to bring you back."

"Trading your lives for my medical aid," Andie summed up. "How many?"

"Three...four...I don't know," Trip panted. "We've got to hurry before they find us again."

She didn't say another word; it wouldn't have been easy at the pace they were keeping on the treacherous mountain path. The case was clear. They were heading back into a bad situation. Her pace began to lag ever so slightly behind the engineers' as she simultaneously began reaching into her bag for a few supplies that she might need before they arrived. Something a little less obvious than the pistol she wore on her hip, that is.

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Four: 19:58 hours_

T'Pol entered the Medical Tent in a hurry. The reports from Sergeant Mackenzie were true; the doctor was gone. It was hard to believe that Andie would leave without notice and the Vulcan took a long moment to look around. There was a heavy boot print in the dirt at the back of the central antechamber, but it might have been made by anybody at any time. She moved further into the tent and found something interesting in the exam pod. A thick black marker had scrawled a few words on the wall behind the door, symbols that only a handful of crewmen could read. The note, written in the desert language of the planet Vulcan, was short: _"Trip came. Captain hurt. Needs medical."_

The Commander stared at the note for a long moment, contemplating what the cryptic message meant. "Take another MACO," she instructed Mackenzie. "Try and determine the direction they went."

"They?" Mac questioned.

Obviously Mackenzie was one of the humans who did not know how to read Vulcan symbols without a translator. The doctor had coded her message in the only way she knew how, probably to keep panic at a minimum.

"She is with the Commander," T'Pol stated quietly. "Tell no one else of your discovery. Be back before dawn no matter what you find."

The sergeant signaled a comrade and they headed out into the night. Most of the crew had retired to their cramped quarters to huddle together in the dark, thankful to have had a meal that was not a ration pack. There were few witnesses to the secret goings-on.

T'Pol tried to take deep and even breaths. It would be difficult to keep the crew from outright panic if more of their command staff disappeared every day. It seemed that the harder she tried to keep the humans together, the more splintered they became. She wished fervently for the time and place to perform a more detailed meditation.

She was uncertain of her next move.

* * *

_Rogue's Campsite_

_Day Four: 22:08 hours_

They had been moving for several hours. The path that had been difficult in the early morning hours was downright treacherous after dark; at several points they had to climb up short rocky formations but the pair kept a brisk pace. Tucker cleared the final hill and nearly slid down the slope where a small campfire lit a clearing just barely inside the line of trees that delineated the forest from the barren valley. Although he could see Lieutenant Reed and Captain Archer seated near the fire, neither looked up at his noisy entrance. Trip skidded to a halt in surprise when several men stepped out of the shadows afforded by the dim lighting. Two of the strangers raised familiar weapons against him. Trip panted. "Don't shoot!" He held up his hands.

Andie slid down the hillside several steps behind. She tripped over a limb in the suddenly bright firelight and fell clumsily on her hands and knees at Malcolm's feet. "Oh, my!" she panted heavily. "I was so _frightene_d I thought I'd never see light again! This forest is so _dark_ and _scary_!" She gasped as she looked around and seemed to notice the group for the first time. "Don't shoot! I'm a doctor! Captain!" Scrambling to Archer's side, she gave every impression of ignoring the quartet of armed men, and certainly did not acknowledge the sharp-edged scalpel she'd just dropped on the ground in front of the tactical officer.

For his part Malcolm knew as soon as she opened her mouth and spoke in the bubble-headed breathy voice that she was up to something and had dropped to his knees under pretense of helping her to her feet in spite of the hands tied behind his back. He was rewarded for his chivalry by a swift kick to the ribs and a rough command to rise, which he did with difficulty due not only to his damaged ribs, but also from the effort to keep the shiny silver blade from glistening in the campfire where it now nestled secretly between his cupped palms.

There were moments he really liked that damned sneaky woman.

Archer looked up from his seated position in front of a tree and tried to smile at Andie to relieve what sounded like what must be a great deal of fear evident in her voice. "I'm okay!" he reassured her. "They caught up to us in the dark," he offered to a worried Trip, who was now being taken into custody by a balding man.

"Don't touch him!" The man closest to her growled abrasively and slowly in a thick voice, as he waved a sword at her in warning. Andie had time to note that unlike two of the others, this one did not hold one of Starfleet's phase pistols. They all wore leather tunics and cloaks.

"What's the meaning of this?" A third one demanded in.

"She's female," rasped the fourth. His vocalizations were also harsh to the ears of the humans. His wide eyes were glued to Andie as she knelt before the captain. "What is she doing here? Who is she? Where did you come from?"

"This is my doctor," Jon panted. "She can help." He tried to scoot forward, but stopped when the closest man turned his sword toward him.

"Don't be ridiculous!" The third one scoffed. He was tall and dark, but instead of being handsome, he looked cruel. "We don't need a herb woman! You promised us assistance!" Unlike the others, his voice didn't scratch against the back of his throat.

Andie's face twitched at that slight, but wisely refrained from retorting. The strange green tunic she wore came in handy; not only did the wide sleeves hide the usage of her medical scanner to check the captain's condition, but the long hem helped cover the existence of her sidearm. "If I'm in the way, I can return from whence I came," she suggested helpfully.

"No," Archer denied pointedly. "I think we'll have need of you."

The man holding Trip was bald and squinty. Baldy looked irritated. "We don't need a sawbones. How is this female going to help?"

"She's no ordinary female," Archer told him. "She can get you what you want."

"What the hell does _that_ mean?" Andie murmured crossly as she pretended to check the bump above Jon's eye, waving away the blade that was meant as a deterrent as though it was a pesky fly.

"They need a key from the castle," he murmured back, ducking away from the heavy boot that moved in his direction intended to break the pair apart.

"You called me out here in the middle of the night for a _caper_?" she hissed, backing away from Archer before the big one could send his foot reeling in either direction. "_Seriously?_" she demanded.

"Let's have a look at her then!" demanded the dark one she'd dubbed Cruelty in her head.

"Show the female some respect," called out the third male. Andie mentally ticked of the name of Sweaty to go along with Baldy and Cruelty. The one closest to her remained quiet. Perhaps it was best; his countenance did not suggest an overabundance of schooling.

"Don't touch me," Andie stated with absolute certainty, looking around at the camp. Four thugs against three Starfleet officers and a doctor should have been a piece of cake, especially with the added bonus of a couple of phase pistols. But Trip's arm was fractured, Reed was sporting some fine facial bruises and Archer was slumped on the ground before her. According to her scanner, he was nursing a cracked rib and it must hurt like hell. And the phase pistols carried by Reed and Archer now adorned the belts of Baldy and Cruelty, two of the scoundrels surrounding them.

"Herak said to stand!" This from the big dumb one; Andie chose to refer to him in her head as Grumpy.

In her misspent youth, she'd spent time in the company of thieves and pirates. She knew how to take a cue and keep a con rolling, and she didn't hesitate. If they were concerned about her presence, it was good to offer them reason to let her go. "Ah, well! Herak can hump his mother," Andie retorted icily. "I don't obey at his whim!"

The dark-eyed Herak stepped forward, presumably to avenge his mother's good name, but he was stopped by the balding fellow. "Tell her to mind her tongue," he spat a warning to Archer.

Andrea cackled. "You think I take orders from him? Think again! I serve no man!"

"Andie!" Archer warned her under his breath.

"Please don't antagonize the goons with all the weapons!" Trip urged from the other side of the fire. Baldy glared at him for his help.

"She's a strange lady in a strange land!" The Sweaty one muttered, wringing his hands. "This in the time of the strange lights!" His harsh voice held worry and fear and something else; a glassy-eyed fervor, which may have been mistaken for his clammy countenance. "We should not harm them!"

"Get hold of yourself, Lucan!" The bald fellow stepped away from Tucker to box Lucan's clammy ears.

"She brings strange magic in the forbidden forest," Lucan whimpered, rubbing his reddened ears.

Andie fixed him with a stern look. "You bet your ass I do," she stated coldly. "Let my people go and you will not suffer as the others will."

"Cease your prattle, woman!" Herak stepped forward and grabbed Andie by the arm, cruelly yanking her to her feet.

"This is supposed to be a simple job," Baldy growled. "Let's just kill them all and get on with it!"

"You cannot ignore the prophecy!" Lucan shouted, somewhat hysterical.

"Get your hands off me!" She hissed and twisted her shoulder under Herak's painful grip. "You're a dead man walking," Andie promised him, struggling to yank her arm out of his grasp.

"She has a weapon!" The dumb one pointed with a meaty hand. "Like the others! She carries it in her belt!"

Herak looked closer at the pulse pistol. "Good eye, Nelek," he praised the large man. "Take it! It is yours!"

Andie immediately backed up as far as she could go at the end of Herak's iron hold. "Don't touch it. I will not draw it, but you must not take my weapon!"

"Baldric!" Herak snapped his fingers at the bald man, who obligingly stepped closer to the engineer.

"Give up your weapon or I'll cut his throat!" Baldric swore, holding a sharp knife to Trip's throat.

"Trust me! You cannot harness my magic!" Andie told them desperately, struggling to stay out of reach.

"Andie, give up your gun!" Archer grumbled. "They already have ours. You won't stand a chance with just one weapon."

"With all due respect, Captain, that would be a bad idea," Malcolm interjected, working as quickly as he could to sever the leathery bindings behind his back. At least all the attention was on the woman and nobody looked in his direction. If he could get his hands free he could use that to his advantage.

Ignoring his tactical officer as a thin line of red appeared on Trip's neck the captain knew they had no choice. "Hand it over, Doctor," Jon answered irritably. As she no doubt knew by now the crack in his ribs was hurting like a son of a bitch and he just wanted this nightmare over.

"Wait!" She held up a hand as Nelek came closer. "I'll throw it into the woods, okay? Nobody has to touch it!" She reached down and slipped her personal Mag Pulse Pistol with genetic recognition grip from its place against her thigh. Gingerly she used two fingers, and as Nelek reached around her for it, she tossed it into the darkness.

Nelek went after it. Herak shoved her to the ground. "Kill them all," he grunted.

"You mustn't!" Lucan protested; having not taken his eyes off of the doctor since she'd first arrived.

"I found it!" Nelek crowed from the dark.

"Put it down! It's not for your hands!" Andie commanded desperately.

"It's not like the others!" Nelek chirped, fitting his large alien fingers around the genetic recognition grip. Andie winced in anticipation for the electro-shock that never came.

"Give that to me, Nelek." Lucan reached out for the weapon with his sweaty palm. He spoke the large man as though he were a child. Nelek responded by handing the pistol over. Lucan turned it over and over in his hands as though the universe was laid bare to his perusal. "What intricate magic is this?" he asked, his eyes shiny with the gleam of the faithful as he looked at Andie.

"It's not for you," she whispered from her position on the ground. "Put it down." That weapon had been specifically designed for her hands and no others to wield. It was set to deliver a steep shock to any foreign grip, and a screaming thug would just upset the others.

Malcolm felt the thin bindings fall from his wrists. Rolling his shoulders to restore feeling in his arms, he used the momentary distraction of the female's weapon to duck low and charge the man nearest him. Baldric was too late to draw the unfamiliar pistol tucked into his belt and the knife he held at the commander's neck went flying into the dark woods as he was knocked off his feet.

Herak roared and lifted a closed fist over Andie's head. From her position crouched on the ground she could not hope to move faster than him and she prepared for the blow as best she could, but it never came. What occurred was far more horrifying.

To defend the strange lady he seemed to hold in such high esteem, Lucan lifted the weapon in his hand and fired it at Herak. As soon as Lucan's damp grasp fastened around the grip, his finger slipped around the trigger. With a single squeeze the gun began its high-pitched whine signaling it was powering up. The high-pitched whine did not level off, as it usually did when Andie gripped her own pistol. It kept rising and a red light flashed. Suddenly Lucan's arm stiffened, as the rest of his body jerked. His face flushed and his eyes widened but he could not release the grip of the foreign pistol.

The whine continued to rise screaming along with the marauder, whose body continued to jerk and shudder with the force of the shock, but it wasn't until the smell of cooking meat drifted to the others in the clearing that the true nature of what was occurring right before their eyes penetrated their stunned gaze. Steam rose out of his ears and his eye sockets. His greasy hair stood out straight on end, drying up in an instant. Blue fire spilled out of the weapon and danced up his arm.

Shocked stares watched the man burn. The forest was lit with eerie blue lightning; the empty trees stood out in stark relief. Reed's eyes began to burn with the grotesque sight and smell. He scrambled to his feet and turned toward the other two attackers, seeing that they were also engrossed in the disturbing image. On the ground, Archer was on his knees gripping Andie's arm and whispering feverishly in her ear. The vacant stare of surprise wiped away the animation in her face; obviously she hadn't expected this either. Reed had to conclude this was not the normal function of her weapon. The captain released her arm and she struggled for her footing.

Andie shoved her way past Herak and kicked out one rubber-soled boot, connecting with bone and metal where Lucan's damp hand gripped the gun. The whining cut off instantly as the weapon flew through the air and dropped into the forest and poor cooked Lucan fell to the ground and remained still. Andie immediately made for the other side of the fire pit, racing for the place where her pistol had fallen.

Baldric reached out a hand as she stepped past him but she lifted her legs and hurdled over his prone body. Tucker used the opportunity for a little payback and kicked Baldric in the mid-section, guaranteeing that the man would remain on the ground for a bit. Andie paused to brush her hands through the brush where her pistol had been flung; she didn't seem to find it.

Archer reached his feet and planted his shoulder into Herak's midsection. Herak grunted and dropped the phase pistol he carried. Nelek removed his hand from the fallen Lucan and noticed Herak being attacked. He lurched to his overlarge feet and lumbered toward Archer.

Fearing the captain could not stand against two men, Reed left Baldric to Tucker's not-so-tender mercies and moved toward the two larger attackers. Archer planted a fist in Herak's face. Reed intercepted Nelek and offered a couple of moves that would drop a Klingon before plunging the silver scalpel into the meaty thigh for good measure. Nelek howled. Tucker held a length of wood that had been intended for the fire and stepped forward to bring it down on the head of Herak. The wind was knocked out of his chest as Baldric slammed into the engineer and drove him down to the ground. Nelek blunted Reed aside as though he were a rag doll and advanced on Archer.

From his position on the ground, Reed saw a head of dark hair disappear into the forest; the cruel one was in pursuit of Andie. He was on his feet in a heartbeat, the fallen log that Trip had dropped in his hand. Two sturdy blows to the back of the overly large Nelek brought the big man to his knees and a swift kick to the knife wound brought out another howl.

"Go!" Archer shouted, heaving for breath in a chest that ached as he struggled to stay on his feet. "She'll need you!" He dealt another blow to Nelek's face and the large man howled. Tucker rolled to his back and used the sides of his hands to karate chop Baldric's neck.

There were noises in the forest where the pair had disappeared. "But you…?" Malcolm protested to the captain. His loyalties were torn.

"We can handle these two," Archer insisted. "She's all alone." Another punch to Nelek's face and the large man clutched his bleeding nose and snuffled like a child. Baldric was on his back now and Trip aimed a sturdy left fist at his face.

With heavy heart, Malcolm nodded. He had not suffered the injuries that Archer and Trip had done. If there was to be a scuffle with Herak, it should be him that scuffled. He turned and raced through the dark night in the direction he had last seen the pair going.

There was another time, practically in another life, where Malcolm had watched a different young woman head into the dark. She had been surrounded by overwhelming odds and Malcolm had not been in time to save her. His previous failure put wings on his feet as he crashed through the woods, praying that the chaos that followed the doctor would be enough to keep her safe until he could rescue her.

A howl in the distance spurred him on. She was fighting for her life. And Malcolm was running to her aid.

* * *

_Forest_

_Day Four: Late night_

Andie fled through the dark forest like a newborn gazelle on wobbly legs. She didn't know where she was going; she couldn't see her hand in front of her face and made her way by the meager blue light of a data pad screen. She hadn't found her pistol, but the pad was coming in handy, pursued as she was by a man who knew the terrain very well. It was no surprise when a heavy hand fell on her shoulder and dragged her backward. She struggled to hold onto the greenery around her, finding aid in a particularly stubborn branch; by letting go at the appropriate moment its resilient bough sprang back into Herak's hate-filled face.

He yelped and stumbled backward. Andie yanked her arm out of his grip and dodged around the side of the tree in a half-crouch. Herak was not so easily lost; he ignored the pain in his face and darted around the tree, blocking her way. He grabbed her upper arm. Andie retrieved the lethal _d'k tahg_ blade she carried in her boot and planted it deep into his forearm. He screamed. Andie pulled the blade out and fled through the forest, leading the bleeding and enraged man further from the clearing where she was certain her friends would have their hands full.

Clamping her lips shut in order to keep quiet, Andie darted under fallen trees and used rocks to block her progression up the path that grew steeper with every step, and the pain-filled male charged after. His familiarity with the woods kept him closing the distance between them. A whistle above her head was followed by a stern thump. A dagger quivered in the tree trunk above her head. Had she not stumbled on the unexpected hole in the ground it would have been fatal. On her hands and knees she scrambled as quietly as possible, shutting of the pad and using the low growing bushes to camouflage her exact location.

She couldn't hear him behind her and just as she was scrambling to her feet, she hit a brick wall. Actually it was just Herak's chest. Blood dripped from his nose from the tree branch and his arm was wet with the same from her knife as he reached out to grab her shoulders in his vise-like grip. He was unprepared for the swift blow to his neck and confused by the strange hiss he heard there. Herak was unfamiliar with the hypo-spray and the medicines it could introduce to the humanoid body. In addition her knee pounded into the soft skin of his groin with all the strength that fear and adrenaline could muster. He choked on his pain and she twisted out of his grip, racing further up the mountain.

There was a small clearing and Andie plunged ahead in the illumination of the moon, reflected off the ever-present cloud cover. She was stopped short as Herak grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked backward, throwing her off-balance. Although she continued to wrestle, he dragged her inexorably forward, cursing her with his foul breath. Andie yelped as she turned her head at the last minute to realize there was no more earth in front of her; she was standing on the edge of a cliff, looking out over a wide crevice. There was no place else to run.

"We didn't come this far to let you ruin us now!" he hissed hotly in her ear. "The world will be remade without you," he promised, shoving her closer to the edge.

* * *

_Rogue's Campsite:_

_Day Four: Late_

Trip was on his back again, precariously close to the fire. Baldric was not going down without a fight, but he didn't know about the hypo-spray that Andie had handed to the engineer earlier. Flicking the dosage to full dispersal, Trip freed one hand and slammed the small unit into Baldric's neck, releasing the entire ampoule. The bald man was reaching out a hand to retrieve the phase pistol when his vision began to blur. He swiped a hand over his eyes to clear them and Tucker used the opportunity to introduce his balled up fists once more to his face. Baldric swayed on his knees before tumbling over backwards into the dirt.

Archer was having less luck with Nelek. The alien snatched up the pistol that Herak dropped and tried to fire a round in Archer's direction. Reed could have told him that he needed to track the target closer and squeeze the trigger rather than jerking it, but he wasn't around to offer advice. A tree trunk ruptured with the blast. Trip came up from behind and managed to grab the weapon hand, dragging it down to connect with his knee. The pain caused Nelek to drop the foreign weapon but he retrieved the scalpel from his thigh. The silver blade flashed in the dim light. It whisked through the air and cut into Tucker, who yelped.

Trip staggered backward, his hand already touching the new wound on his chest. It wasn't serious; just a scratch. Nelek's eyes blazed as he prepared to fight Trip with his bare hands, but something tapped his shoulder. When he turned around, Archer's fist planted right between his eyes. Nelek fell to the ground.

"You all right?" Trip panted, cradling his injured arm.

"I've been better," Archer acknowledged, leaning over to gasp for breath. "You?"

"I could use a stiff drink," Trip sighed. The pain in his arm was a dull roar in his ears.

Archer was set to chuckle at his friend's remark when he noticed that Baldric wasn't completely out cold. In spite of the large dose, the man refused to give up and struggled to wrap his hand around the phase pistol while the two humans reconnected. It took two hands to lift it in the air, and he took aim through eyes growing blearier by the second.

As Baldric pulled the trigger Archer leaped forward, placing his body in front of Tucker's. The flash of light cut through the night and the dying firelight and Archer hit the ground with a heavy thump. Trip whirled around, but Baldric was already dropping his head to the dirt, finally succumbing to the insistent need for sleep.

Tucker scrambled through the dirt, first kicking the pistol out of Baldric's hand before pressing a palm against the captain's body in search for signs of life. The faint pulse tapping away beneath the skin made Trip sigh heavily and drop to the ground in weak relief. "Thank God it was set on stun," he murmured to himself in the dim light of the empty clearing.

Struggling to his feet on legs that fully planned to refuse; he wobbled for a moment as he took his bearings. One dead man, two unconscious attackers and one sleeping captain did not make for a reassuring perusal. The soft whicker of an animal on the outskirts of the circle caught his attention. Somebody else was out there.

He hit the ground in a crouch and moved forward to get a look at the watcher. The clop of heavy hooves was muffled as was the creak of leather, but Tucker decided he was looking at a carriage disappearing into the night. From this distance, he couldn't see a driver or a passenger in the covered coach and he tried to get a better look. His attempt to see anything further was denied when a sudden impact on the back of his head caused stars to dance before his eyes shortly before the entire world went dark. Tucker's head fell into the dirt.

Ahead of him, the carriage came to a halt. "Bring him and the others. They may yet be useful," a voice commanded from the dark depths.

The assailant nodded to acquiesce and when he turned around he snatched a quick and furtive look at the straggly trees that reached out above him. He was happy to be leaving. He would never object out loud however. He grabbed the fallen man at his feet and began to drag him out of the forest.

Preparations began for the journey to come.

* * *

_Forest:_

_Day Four: Late _

Malcolm didn't have much trouble following the trail with the data pad he'd pulled from a pocket nearly hidden from view in his dirty, stained uniform. Even in the dark, broken branches and scuffled earth could be seen to direct a path through the alien forest. When he came upon a tree trunk covered in blood, he had cause to worry, but the machine announced that it was not human blood. The bio-matter made the trail even easier to follow. He quickened his pace.

The trail grew steeper and the path more erratic. Ahead of him he heard a squeak, followed by a grunt in a lower octave. Andie was in trouble, but Herak wasn't happy about it, Malcolm deduced. He hurried in spite of the flare of muscle strain in his back and legs that had worked too long already for one day.

Light began to pierce the darkness. The thick atmosphere above parted to allow the gleam of moonbeams to light up the pale rock for a fraction of a second. The heavy cover of forest gave way to a small clearing, framing in detail the pair that struggled at the edge of the precipice. She wasn't going over without a fight.

Malcolm saw her turn. He saw her twist her arms. He heard Herak howl, a terrible cry that echoed over the deep pit opening wide to swallow them whole.

For one second he was lost in the past as he could almost believe he was reliving his worst nightmare. There had been another girl, only her hair had been dark. He could still see her panic; he could still hear her scream. The past tangled with the present and he could hear the distant echo of her cry reverberate around the stone walls as they had done in a wet alley at the end of his youth. He felt his stomach fall as his memory forced him to watch her fall with terrible clarity. The memory still made his stomach drop to his toes with sickening vertigo.

In the present, he watched Herak lurch forward, clumsily scrabbling for purchase, dragging the female forward. Malcolm saw the fair head at the edge of the cliff swallowed up by the dark heavy body of her attacker. He knew that gravity would reach out a hand and drag them both down into its piercing bosom, and he knew that once again, he was just too late.

With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, Malcolm Reed heard the crack of rock tumbling away from the earth and he was too far away to do more than watch as the pair who struggled on the edge of the cliff tumbled out of sight as the ground gave way beneath them.

The doctor never made a sound, but Malcolm did.


	10. Chapter 10

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 10

* * *

_At the edge of the cliff:_

_Day Four: Late_

"NO!"

Malcolm scrabbled to the edge of the cliff where he had last seen the woman, visions from the past blurring his vision. Another woman, another night, that time in the rain; he had been so close then too, but unable to save her. She fell. She fell right out of his grasp. Malcolm thought he might throw up. Sarin on their first mission at an outpost called Rigel X, the Antarctic research team transformed into something not quite human and heading for the Delta Quadrant, Ensign Burrows who died in the line of duty just a few meters away from Reed, Hoshi who had been removed from her post on the bridge, and Hayes who died trying to get her back; the faces of those he'd failed to protect were never far from his mind. He could remember all the names of the crew who had fallen in the Expanse as though he had pulled the trigger on them himself. His knees wobbled. He was a piss-poor armory officer who was unable to save the life of the daughter of the foremost medical doctor on Earth.

_He was going to be haunted by her wide open eyes for the rest of his life._ At the moment he couldn't differentiate between the dark eyes of his first love or the chameleon gaze of his last charge.

"_Son of a bitch!"_

That wasn't his voice. He inhaled deeply, feeling the burn of oxygen in lungs that had been starving. Malcolm scrambled closer to the edge of the crumbling cliff. "Doctor?" he tried to call out. Something was choking his voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Andrea?"

"Stupid bush! I'm tangled on a shrubbery!"

She sounded petulant and out of breath, but she was definitely alive. Malcolm gave silent thanks to the universe, which looked after children and fools with such care. "Are you all right? What can I do to help?" Hesitantly he crawled closer to the edge of the cliff that had given way so unexpectedly, trying to peer over. He didn't think she'd had fallen very far; her voice seemed close.

"If I could just turn around," she grunted. Reed heard another grunt and a heavy thump. "That's better," she murmured calmly, sounding much more composed. "If I toss you my satchel, you think you can grab one loop and help me up?"

He couldn't even see her from his position at the top. "I'll try," he promised. Seconds later a sturdy canvas loop flopped into view. Gingerly Malcolm scooted to the edge of the precipice and grabbed it. He wrapped it around his hand and tried to brace his body against the cliff, praying the thin fabric wouldn't tear from the weight. Soon a dirty hand appeared over the cliff and in one smooth motion buried a thick Klingon blade in the chalky dirt in front of his nose. Using the blade handle for leverage, Andie pulled herself over the top of the cliff with a grunt and immediately flopped onto her back with a sigh of relief.

He couldn't help but search her body with his eyes, looking for signs of blood or trauma. Aside from some scratches on her face and hands, she seemed in good condition. Relief made him weak. He flopped down on his back beside her with a sharp exhale.

"I love that knife," she panted lying on the ground with her eyes closed.

"I thought you'd fallen," Malcolm gulped air into his lungs as his breath returned to normal.

"Oh, honey, I don't fall! I fly!" Andie mocked lightly. Her humor drifted away as suddenly as it arrived, as though it took every ounce of strength to keep up the façade. In a moment she opened her eyes and sat up slowly. Wiping the blade clean with her dusty tunic, she slipped the weapon back into her boot and gestured to her pack. "I told you! That's my survival kit. I can't live without it." Her flippant facade faltered again. "It got tangled in a bush and stopped my descent."

Malcolm could still see her body being dragged over the edge of the cliff by the advancing man, like a movie that kept replaying in slow motion. His queasy stomach didn't settle as quickly as the rest of him. "What happened to Herak?"

Exhaling deeply, Andie looked at the drop-off so close to her location. It took her a moment to answer and when she did it was brief. "He didn't have a survival kit." She turned her head to look at the lieutenant, and winced. The fingers gingerly probing the back of her neck came away red with blood; she reached for her satchel and dug around until she found a medical scanner. She had marginal success trying to run the instrument over the nape of her neck and she finally offered the machine to Reed with a scowl and a quiet 'please.' He took the instrument and had a moment to notice it wasn't Starfleet issue before running the scan and presenting the results for her perusal. Her scowl deepened. "Looks like I picked up a few pricks from that thorny bush. You had the advanced medical course; you think you can pull them out?"

"I'll do my best," Malcolm promised. She placed a small tweezers in his hand and lifted the hair off her neck. By the light of a flashlight he pulled eight sharp barbs out of the skin, enduring her every wince of pain with a jab to his own sense of guilt. Andie dropped one barb in a small vial and secured it in her pack; the others she left in the dirt. When he was finished, she squeezed a hefty portion of disinfectant over her neck and rolled her head around with relief.

_He had steady hands_, she had to admit. _Steady hands probably helped him slip something into her drink_, she thought bitterly. She shook her head; she wasn't ready to be mad at him now. There was too much work to do. She could hold a grudge later.

"Archer and Tucker?" she inquired, wiping her hair out of her face.

"They had things under control," Malcolm assured her. "I tried telling them that you didn't need any help, that you could take care of yourself, but they insisted I follow you." He forced his lips up into a smile. He didn't want her to see how rattled he was; he didn't want to attempt an explanation why. She seemed willing to play along.

Andie chuckled tiredly. "Let's go get those two and get back to camp before T'Pol kicks all our asses."

Malcolm rose on wobbly knees and offered the doctor a hand. She accepted gratefully and felt the muscle strain in her shoulders from the jolt of dangling off the side of an unexpected cliff. Slipping her hand out of his grasp, she shouldered her satchel onto her back and followed Reed back to the campsite.

The walk back to the clearing took longer than the mad dash away had done. They picked up the remains of the scanner Andie had used to lead her into the forest, which had fallen and been crushed under a boot. She passed the rest of the time talking as she fiddled with the broken pieces. Or rather, she asked a lot of questions. "What the hell was all that nonsense before?" she inquired. "What happened to Archer? Where'd you meet our foursome? What's with the key? Does your face hurt?"

"Captain Archer noticed a man pursued by the four horsemen when he was walking Porthos. He tried to intervene and was captured. Commander Tucker and I attempted a rescue and were caught. They wanted to know about the strange lights in the sky a few nights ago, and where was our camp, and did we have any special reason for traveling here. They kept demanding a key. Commander Tucker was able to pick the lock on his cage and Captain Archer told him to return to camp. While Trip was gone, Archer was able to overpower his guard and then free me and we escaped into the woods. We thought we'd lost them until they caught us shortly before you returned." He risked a look back at the female. "Thanks for the scalpel by the way."

"Do you still have it?" she inquired, ducking under a brush.

"No, I planted it in the thigh of the large fellow," he told her.

"Hmm," she grunted. "I liked that scalpel." She took the hand Reed offered to assist her over a fallen log and asked, "Did Archer explain why he thought _I_ should be part of this, instead of a team of marines?" she queried crossly.

"Perhaps he thought he needed medical treatment in order to return to camp," he responded. They were coming up on the tree with all the blood and Reed tried to place his body before Andie's and prevent her from seeing it. His efforts were needless; she was a doctor and not traumatized by blood.

"I whacked him in the face with a tree branch," she pointed out. "Then I poked him with my knife."

"I was afraid the blood was yours," Reed admitted quietly.

"I'm hard to kill," she answered easily, slapping him on the back affably, as though they were trading tall tales in a pub over drinks. "I also damaged his groin." She added the last with gruesome cheer. Her attempts to downplay the fright she felt being hunted through the woods in the dark seemed to make her companion moodier rather than less so. Funny, black humor had worked so well in the past. She shrugged. Reed was an odd one.

"You're a lucky woman, Doctor," Reed told her, staring straight into her eyes. Standing this close to her in the blue light from the display screen of the handheld scanner, he could see that her countenance was darker than normal, and he wondered for the first time if her cheery demeanor wasn't covering for shock. "We should hurry," he urged, placing a hand at her back and nudging her forward.

The clearing was empty when they arrived. The fire had been covered with dirt, the bodies of the two unconscious men were removed, and there was no sign of the captain or the commander. The pair spent several minutes looking around. Andie crowed triumphantly when she tripped over her Mag Pulse Pistol in the foliage at the edge of the camp, but retracted her joy with a sigh when she discovered that the extreme energy output had nearly drained the battery. "We'll have one maybe two shots," she pouted, holstering the weapon in frustration.

The fallen body of Lucan remained where it had dropped. She bit her lip and knelt down beside him. "Strange that they left him here with those carnivores roaming around," she mused sadly. "Maybe they don't have any burial rituals." She ran her medical scanner over the body. "My Mag Pulse has never done that before. It's supposed to exert an electrical charge but it's never overloaded like that."

"Everything down here registers on the metallic scale," Reed pointed out, glancing around the clearing with growing unease. "Perhaps an abundance of metal in his blood stream caused the severe reaction."

"If that's true, I can't use this on anyone else, even if I could use it," she noted dejectedly, fondling the weapon secured against her thigh. "What about the others?"

"There's a spot or two of blood here and there. Scanner says some of it belongs to our men. They put up one hell of a fight." Swallowing hard, Malcolm moved further out in concentric circles according to his unspoken search grid. "There seems to be a trail here." His voice grew muffled as he ducked his head to peer under the thick growth at the edge of the woods. "There seems to be a set of wheel tracks over here." He sat back on his heels and looked frustrated. "I think they were carried out of here in a wagon of some sort."

"Which way did it go?" Andie inquired, joining him and peering over the tangle of brush into the darkness beyond. "What's out there?"

"The tracks go that way," he gestured to his right. The foothills rolled away to the dreary plains in that direction. "They were probably taken that way." The tactical officer sounded tired.

"Maybe the conveyance offered them a ride?" Andie suggested helpfully.

Malcolm just raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Yeah, that doesn't sound like their kind of luck, does it?" she conceded. "What else is out there?"

"There's a bridge in that direction about three kilometers," he pointed to the left. "It spans the gorge. The dirt track on the other side meanders through another valley before turning into a steep and rocky incline." He sighed heavily and kicked at a rock with his toe. "That castle we could barely see from camp is in that direction."

"The castle is that way?" Andie repeated, pointing. "Then that's where I'm going."

"Going?" Malcolm repeated. "But in all likelihood, the captain and the commander were taken in that direction!" He pointed to the conflicting path.

"Then you should go that way and rescue them," she nodded sensibly. "I'll meet you back in camp tomorrow." Andie wiggled through the gap in the brush and when Malcolm appeared by her side, he found her digging through her survival pack.

"You can't be serious!" Reed was on his feet. "You can't go off by yourself!"

"The captain gave me an order. I have to go the castle and help the wounded man. It was the last thing he said to me and he made me promise. I intend to keep that promise." Stubbornness crept into her tone, emphasized by the mulish jut of her jaw.

Malcolm remembered Archer whispering in her ear as Lucan fried. "It would take the better part of the day on foot to traverse that bridge and make your way to the castle!"

"I don't plan on taking the bridge," she announced calmly. "If the bridge-builders chose that spot because it's simply the shortest place to cross the ravine and then the road curls back around to a rocky outcropping, then it stands to reason that the castle is just on the other side of this ravine and that rocky outcropping. I'm going to take the shortest route and hopefully it will take much less than a day to get there."

"You've never bothered to obey the captain before," Malcolm pointed out. "Why start now?"

"I'm trying something new," she retorted. "Maybe you should head back to camp and get some more help?" She stopped fussing with her bag and withdrew a small coil of rope and began untangling its length.

Her intent seemed clear. "You intend to scale that cliff! Are you insane?" Malcolm boggled at the thought.

"Sometimes crazy helps," Andie added unhelpfully, wrapping the line around her forearm to judge its length.

"It's the middle of the night! You can't see where you're going! The MACO's wouldn't climb that ravine in broad daylight and you think you're going to do it at night!"

"I'm a very good climber," she stated simply. She removed something else from her satchel and Reed cringed to note that it was a thick metal coupler called a carabiner. Several other carabiners hung from its closed mouth. She fastened this to her belt where they jangled together.

"This is madness!" he protested.

"Is it madder than the captain wandering away from camp in the middle of the night without an escort for no good reason?" she challenged.

"He had a reason!" Malcolm defended the man.

"What was that?" A handful of glow rods joined the supplies she was laying out; she slipped them into one of the many pockets in her gray civilian pants.

"He hasn't seen fit to tell me about his plans," Reed concluded. "But that doesn't mean he doesn't have them!"

"Well, I have a plan too," Andie insisted, pulling the pack onto her back again. "You should try and get word back to T'Pol before you go after the captain and Trip. Do you have a notepad?"

Malcolm grabbed her arm and pulled her up short. "You can't do this!"

Andie looked at him soberly although her jaw tightened. "Yes I can. You're going to want to remove that grip."

"I mean, we should both go back to Starfleet Hollow and get reinforcements," he tried again, relaxing his fingers and releasing her forearm.

"You go. I have another path to follow." Andie looked at Reed. "So do you. You should be the one to rescue the captain." She seemed very intent that he should leave her be. Her aim only made him certain that she should not go anywhere alone.

"I don't even know where they are!" Malcolm burst out. "They could be at the bottom of that ravine, for all we know!" He was instantly ashamed of his burst of temper, but the female ignored him. She had that calculating look on her face that was beginning to raise hairs on the back of his neck.

That damned smirk returned. "You're just determined to find the glass half empty, aren't you, Reed? Don't worry; Archer doesn't strike me as the sort to let someone else tell him when he's ready to die. You'll find him and he'll be fine." She headed back into the forest in the direction from which they'd just come.

"I am the superior officer in the field!" he tried desperately. "If you persist in this ridiculous idea, I'll have you brought up on charges!" Watching her fall when he could do nothing was awful; knowing that she'd break her neck while under his direct command was too much.

Andie took a moment to consider his words. "Good luck with that," she offered facetiously.

"Andrea!"

"Do what you gotta do," she argued passively, disappearing into the dark with implacable calm.

Reed looked back over his shoulder and mentally calculated how long it would take to get back to Starfleet Hollow from this point. He also calculated how much trouble it would be to knock the doctor over the head and drag her back to camp unconscious. The memory of one particularly steep climb on the path was sufficient to know he would never make it with her in tow, especially not if she woke up and carried a grudge against his second assault on her in a matter of days, which he was certain she would do, with extreme prejudice.

There really wasn't another choice he could live with, was there?

Malcolm dragged his feet all the way back to the cliff's edge, cursing under his breath. Andie was there; she snapped and shook one of the glow rods and a weak golden glow lit up the night around them. She tossed it over the cliff where it fell so far it ceased to give off illumination to the pair standing above it.

The thought of scrambling down the dangerously sharp outcropping in the dark was making Reed's stomach turn over. _This was not some nice safe cave in the middle of a planet undergoing a bloodthirsty military coup where some nice passive Denobulans would be found camping at the bottom and have to be dragged out by the skin of their teeth! This was a serious danger!_

"Let me put it another way, Reed," Andie said quietly as though he'd continued to verbally protest. Her unruffled voice did not hide the danger that lurked under her words. "I am going to climb down this mountain. That is my choice. You can make your own choice. You can go back to the Hollow for reinforcements, which would be very sensible. You can follow a track in the dirt and hope it leads you to Captain Archer and Tucker, which is less sensible and relies heavily on luck. Or you can follow me on my mad adventure, which will most likely end in your untimely demise. You can make your own choice." Her tone hardened. "But you're not going to deter me from mine."

"You're not going alone," Malcolm told her resignedly.

"Suit yourself," she shrugged. She was already sitting on the edge of the cliff and driving an anchor into the earth to support her weight. She removed the braided rope that served as a belt for her green tunic and made a couple of quick loops which she handed to Reed. "Tie yourself off and let's go." Andie swung down into the dark crevice without waiting for his agreement.

There were so many ways this could go wrong. He couldn't help but think if he had a few minutes to really consider the problem he could find another way around this. But that damned woman was not waiting for anything; as usual, she was rushing headlong into danger without considering the consequences.

And he was tailing along for the ride.

Drawing a deep breath, he slipped the loose loop around his body to secure him to the rope and then dropped his feet over the edge of the cliff and dropped down into darkness.

* * *

_Midnight Climb:_

_Day Four/Five: Hours later_

Reed breathed a sigh of relief when she dropped into a seat next to him. The rocky face was full of sharp, jagged edges; it was like climbing down a wall of knife blades. Each handhold was carefully chosen and gingerly held. They'd paused after a few meters and used a roll of duct tape from the survival kit to wrap around the tender skin of their palms. Every fifty meters or so they paused on a ledge and she pulled the rope down behind them and fastened it on a new carabiner to keep them aloft. It was a reckless stunt they were pulling and it shocked Reed that they were actually pulling it off. He never failed to be amazed at her agility. Every displaced stone had caused Reed's stomach to tighten, but none had signified a suddenly freefalling female. She had a strong grip and a stubborn streak that wouldn't let her fall.

At the moment they weren't quite halfway down the steep embankment, sitting with their backs against the cold rock as they took a well-earned rest. The walls of the gorge actually narrowed down here, so technically they were closer to their goal than they had been. But Malcolm didn't even want to contemplate the climb up on the other side. They were already halfway through the safety clasps and they would have to climb the other side without any aid. With every step and every handhold he was convinced that this was a foolish mission and he should have tried harder to talk her out of it. Perhaps he was hoping that he would slip and fall and then he'd never have to explain why he let the doctor lead him into this mess or why he allowed the captain to disappear from his view.

Andie didn't seem perturbed. She was humming quietly as she rummaged in her satchel. Malcolm was convinced the pack had magical properties because she kept pulling things out it as though it had no bottom; like a genie's bottle, she could conjure whatever she wished from the dark depths. He shook his head. He'd nearly drifted off to sleep, and she was pushing something into his grasp. It was a silvery pouch that signified emergency rations. This one seemed to be labeled Beef Stew. She also handed him a water flask and he drank a mouthful gratefully. He looked over to see she had several small cans on her lap.

"Stop your wandering eye," she commanded easily. "The pudding cup's mine and I'm not sharing!"

"You can't live on pudding alone," Reed demurred. "Do you want to share?"

She smirked even as she shook her head. "I'm good." Her pile also included a small can of beans and half a protein bar.

"Did you raid the stores before you left camp?" he inquired mirthlessly.

"What kind of person do you think I am? I would never steal from the crew!" she objected hotly. "They're left-over from several meals." Her voice grew smaller. "I like to save some stuff just in case..."

"Just in case you need to take a midnight mountain climb?" he teased.

"Shut up!" she growled, snatching the water flask from his grip. In the dark she couldn't see his grin. Down here the weird orange glow that passed for moonlight didn't extend. Their only illumination was the fading yellow light from the glow rod that rested on the ground between them.

Malcolm tore open the silver pouch and poured a mouthful of tepid beef stew into his mouth as he considered his companion out of the corner of his eye. Andrea always carried a weapon with her; usually more than one. She had nightmares. She hoarded food away from her allocated rations. All those habits were beginning to paint a picture of a woman whose security was not something she took for granted but something that she made for herself. Once upon a time her close companion had sold her into slavery to pay his gambling debts; her paranoia was probably warranted. Malcolm knew he was considered paranoid by some, but even he didn't take to hiding parts of his meals in case he might need to survive without food unexpectedly. He did wonder what it would take to make her feel safe. Courtly behavior and gentle reassurances certainly didn't work.

They ate in silence for a few moments, both grateful for the sustenance and the chance to rest. Andie even saved the last bit of chocolate pudding for Malcolm, allowing him to swipe the final remnant out of the individual serving cup with his index finger. He savored the sweet flavor on his tongue. It was the perfect end to a meal.

"Are you ready to get started again?" she inquired brightly.

"Your boundless enthusiasm is offensive," he grumbled listlessly. He was exhausted. He'd been on his feet one whole night and day, and this evening didn't seem likely to end anytime soon. Although the other side of the gorge seemed close enough to make with one flying leap, the landing would be horrible. Each sliver of rock would slice through his hands, leaving minor trails of blood all the way down. Jumping was out of the question; they would have to climb the rest of the way.

"We won't have to climb all the way down," she noted with cheer.

"What makes you so sure?" He could hardly dare to hope.

She nodded with her chin and he turned his head. The dark shape of a large slender pole rose out of the ground several meters away. Closer inspection indicated that it was a slender tree that tapered into a narrow rod at the top, its roots clutching firmly to the rocky incline that offered it foundation.

"And this tree is good news?" he inquired dubiously. "Are we going to cut it down with your knife and build a bridge?"

Andie didn't take offense to his sarcastic tone. "I'm going to climb it. My weight will bow it over and I'll get off on the other side. You can follow if you like," she offered generously.

"It'll snap under your weight," he stated plainly.

"I don't think so," she refuted, ignorant of the crack about her weight. "Everything here seems to be fortified with metal. I think it'll bend, not break." She tucked all their refuse into her bag and stood up. Picking her way carefully on the treacherous rock ledge, she had to clutch at the prickly shrubbery to keep her on course and to aid her progress.

Malcolm sighed and followed reluctantly after. There really wasn't anyplace else for him to go. He had followed her this far; he had no choice but to follow her further. The tree seemed to be supple and it was tall enough to reach the other side. But it was still a dangerous proposition. "This is crazy," he objected. He knew that was the wrong thing to say.

"Sometimes crazy helps," she grinned again. She already had her arms around the trunk.

"Andie!" The weight of the night pressed down against him; he wasn't up to a big argument about safety at the moment. Exhaustion was his biggest problem at the moment. He wondered if she had any stimulants in her pack; although he acknowledged there probably wasn't a suave way to ask for one without opening an entire can of worms.

"If this fails you have to climb back up and rescue Archer," she said determinedly, wrapping her legs around the trunk. "I have to go first."

"I can't get up there without you," he pointed to the top of the crevice.

Her only answer was to sling one end of the rope over his shoulder and pull herself up by grabbing the rough bark. The dull gleam of the glow rod around her neck indicated her location. Malcolm tried not to panic when the creak of the tree coincided with the tilt of the dim light. The dirt at his feet shifted in response to the transfer of weight as the roots scrambled to hold onto their patch of earth. The loop around his shoulder played out as she scrambled further away from him while wearing the other one.

"Your turn!" he heard the words with their strange echo in the cavern. One large root was poking up at the edge of the cliff. It didn't fill him with confidence but he wasn't about to leave her alone. Spitting in his hands to aid his grip, Malcolm shimmied up the trunk of the bowed over tree and sidled along its overturned edge. He could feel the wind eddy around his body and leaned in closer to the bark. The tree responded with an agonizing groan. He pulled his body forward again, trying not to snag any of his body parts on any protrusions from the tree.

"Reed? You might want to hurry." Andie's voice had that tone that people got when they were trying not to panic. She waved the weakening glow around to evidence her location.

"What have you gotten me into?" he called out, hearing the distant echo of his words blur in the stone corridor. His progress was tilting downwards now. He should be feeling gravity pull him toward the ground with greater force with each passing shift.

"If you make it across we'll call it even on that sleeping pill thing from yesterday," she called out helpfully.

"If? IF I MAKE IT ACROSS? This is not the time to talk about _ifs_, Andrea!" He was beginning to feel the downward motion now. The tree was creaking more ominously now.

"Hurry your sweet little ass up and we won't have to talk about ifs, Malcolm!"

There was definitely a noise behind him that he didn't want to think about. He made his living making certain that the risk was reduced for every crewman on board, and here he was climbing blind across an unknown tree over a sharp unlit gorge on the advice of the adrenaline junkie ahead of him! "Bugger!" he hissed agitatedly as he swung his legs down into the free air.

Immediately he could feel a pair of hands settle on his thighs and guide his legs to ground that was more or less sturdy. He let go of the tree branch and the slender pole swung upright with a twang, followed by a scuffle of dirt. There was more noise and the sound of something heavy falling.

He could barely make out her features in the weird orange light of nighttime on this strange world. "The tree fell down, didn't it?" he demanded to know. Malcolm could see the pulse at the base of her throat was working overtime.

She shrugged and grinned weakly.

"It didn't have the deep roots to maintain its own weight bent over the canyon, did it?" he demanded further.

"You want to lead the climb up?" she offered. "I'll follow." It was the only apology he figured he would get.

"If I had another sleeping pill, I'd drug you again right now!" he hissed.

Her smile widened. "Then you'd have to carry me uphill," she pointed out. "Good luck with that, Reed."

He turned to assess the rock wall they would have to traverse against gravity. She tapped him on the shoulder.

"Don't drug me again, Reed," she cautioned. "I'd hate to have to kill you now."

"If you kill me, my specter will haunt you until the end of time," he warned her. He made preparations to start climbing.

Her next question stopped him cold. "If I pleasure myself sexually while a ghost watches, is it still considered masturbation? Or does that fall under voyeurism?" She sounded genuinely curious about the outcome.

Reed clamped his jaw firmly shut with a loud clack. "I think that falls under depraved," he muttered when he was certain he wouldn't giggle.

"Hunh," she grunted, swinging her body up onto the next ledge of rock.

One dangerous stunt and one degenerate joke should not have cleared the air between them, but the rest of their climb was conducted peacefully. He would reach out a hand to help her up and she would accept it, offering her own when he needed it. A couple hours later when they reached the peak, they had developed their own rhythm.

* * *

_Day Five: Just after midnight_

"But will it hold?" Malcolm asked again.

"I'm certain it will hold," Andie answered through her clenched jaw. "But this still hinges on you being able to get a line all the way over there." The wind had picked up and the temperature had dropped even lower than normal.

"That won't be a problem. Our new friend turned out to be quite helpful." Malcolm's toe tapped the man lying on his face at their feet. The man was not happy and tried to protest through the cloth gag in his mouth. He was unsuccessful. Even if he could have raised his voice, it would be hard to hear him over the waterfall that covered every sound they made as well as their physical presence.

Reed and the doctor had found a shortened passage to the far side of the gorge through a narrow slit in the wall. It was so close together that they had to walk at an angle and the doctor had had to remove her satchel and carry it behind her instead of on her back. However when they reached the other side, they found a sight for sore eyes. The castle was directly in front of them. They seemed to be facing the rear of the stronghold. The two tallest towers were right in front of them. Then two more towers, closer to the front of the fortress, were slightly shorter in height. The two towers facing the front were still two stories high, and tall enough to keep enemies from climbing over. Yet the towers and the men guarding them with sharp weapons and torches weren't the hardest part. The castle itself was surrounded on all sides by churning water, fed from the waterfall spilling out of the sharp and jagged wasteland of rock extending far above the tallest turret into a river that only the most daring or desperate of men would attempt to traverse.

Swimming over was not an option. Neither was climbing down and knocking on the front door. The rocks on this side were not only harsh and unforgiving, but also slick from the mist sprayed out by the falls. As they had contemplated their precarious position, a guard had attempted to jump them. He wound up face down, in his underclothes, with his hands tied and his mouth muzzled.

But his crossbow would help them tremendously.

Andie finished securing the last of her carabiners into the rock behind her. She threaded the cord through the end and Malcolm tied the other end to the metal bolt that was intended to be shot by the crossbow. The bolt was nearly as long as an arrow. Lieutenant Reed intended to fire the bolt across the moat, lodge it horizontally in between the merlons on the upper battlement wall and use the taut line to shuffle hand over fist across the water and into the castle. He couldn't believe this was their plan to enter the royal domicile, but it wasn't any worse than any other plan they'd had today.

"Give it your best shot, Sparky," Andie encouraged with a lopsided smile.

"Give me a little elbow room, Red," Malcolm taunted in return. "The master is at work."

Andie offered a look to the fallen guard that seemed to say _'can you believe the ego on this guy?'_ but the guard was in no position to agree or disagree. He grunted and wiggled and earned a sharp pinch to his cheek to remind him to be quiet.

Taking careful aim, Malcolm held his breath and squeezed the trigger. There was a hiss of wind as the bolt flew through the air. The ambient light from the torches was sufficient to see the projectile soar through the air, but the waterfall made it impossible to hear the clatter when it hit the ground. The line was at its maximum reach. Gently Malcolm pulled the line taut and the dart flopped horizontally and caught between the two upraised portions and the armory officer flashed a grin at the doctor.

"I'm going first," he told her in no uncertain terms.

"Knock your self out," she gestured with an outstretched arm in the cold damp air.

"Why do you want me to go first?" he asked suspiciously. She shrugged and grinned. "You think this is going to fail and I'm going to get wet, don't you?" he demanded.

Andie continued to smirk. "Better you than me," she teased. She checked the line she'd tied around his waist, made from her own braided belt. It would help keep him secure if his hands should slip.

"Wish me luck," Malcolm grinned. The adrenaline rush was going to his head. _God help him, he was becoming a junkie too!_

"May the Great Bird soar with you under his wings," she offered instead.

"I'll take that as luck," he answered, leaning his weight onto the harness and pulling his ankles up over the secured line. He began the slow process of moving hand over hand and dragging the rest of his body forward. In a matter of seconds he was out over the water and he tried to concentrate very hard on the movements of his hands and to forget the waves and tides that roiled beneath him. His imagination filled in the sound of great bird wings fluttering in his ears, making him remember what Andie had said as she drifted off the other night, that there were no birds on this planet.

From the other side Andie kept watch on the location of the torches as they moved across the battlements closer to the front. Whoever held them seemed to be concerned with enemies attacking from the front rather from the rear. It was a small scrap of luck, but she'd definitely take it. With no way down from the steep incline, and no way to knock politely on the front door, they would have to take their chances where they could find them.

Malcolm dropped his legs down when he felt the cool stone of the castle wall behind him. He turned his body and grasped the rim of the embrasure and his aching muscles screamed in protest but eventually dragged him over the lip of the wall. He lay gasping on the upper deck of the tallest tower. Dragging his tired body to his feet he checked the security of the bolt and the cord connected to it before waving Andie over.

She hadn't drawn an easy breath until he waved. Once he did, she wasted no time. She secured the pack around her back and a harness around her waist, created from the belt that had held the guard's scabbard in place, a scabbard that was no longer necessary as his sword had fallen soundlessly into the water when the guard had been unarmed. Her feet were pulled up around the rope and it was her turn to shuffle along its length. It felt like hours that she dangled from the slender cord she'd stuffed in her pack at some time in the past. She tried to focus her mind by remembering what had prompted her to place the length of rope in her kit, but she couldn't remember.

Just five meters away she could see Reed as he watched her, intent on her progress. It was at that moment that luck deserted her. A guard wandered along the walkway near the middle towers to see why the guard on the outer slope hadn't checked in. He saw the body wriggling next to the falling water, and then he saw the rope. His gaze followed the cord to the upper turret and that's when he shouted for reinforcements.

"Hurry up, Andie!" Malcolm shouted from above. He reached out a hand trying to urge her to hurry.

Andie knew she wasn't going to make it to Malcolm's location. There wasn't enough time to finish the journey and pull her aching body over the wall before the contingent of guards was upon them both. It would be difficult to explain why they were coming in the back door rather than the front; Reed would probably be pleased to hear that his opposition to this plan would prove correct. She drew a deep breath. She might not escape Scot free but she could distract and disperse the guards that were gunning for the lieutenant.

Malcolm knew the second she shifted her weight that she was about to do something stupid. He couldn't call out to her without giving away his position, but he tried anyway. He reached out to touch the line that was taut in front of him, shaking it to get her to look his way, but she never glanced up. One of her arms wrapped itself around the cord while the other reached down to her boot in a gesture that was becoming familiar. The Klingon blade flashed in the dim moonlight just before it slashed through the thin rope, severing the lengths.

"Damn it, Andie!" Reed hissed under his breath.

The woman held tight to the severed line and silently swung through the chilly night to hit the side of the stone castle hard enough to jar every bone in her body through the cushion of the pack on her back. Now she was dangling off the castle like a tea bag and the shortest distance to solid land was above her, in the form of a balcony jutting out from the wall. Andie eyed the terrace thoughtfully before releasing her grip and sliding down several meters to the next available landing pad, putting her further away from Reed but also further from the guards who had presumed she would climb the shorter distance.

Shouts and cries directed other guards to split up. To confuse their directions, Malcolm pulled the metal bolt and the rope over the edge of the turret; it would be difficult to estimate which level the intruders were on without the length of rope indicating how far Andie had slid. He used the length of cord to secure the door of the nearest entrance. He didn't think the watchmen could get through without a fuss now; then he turned and raced across the walkway to the turret on the other side.

Down below on the second floor landing, the multi-colored glass windows were thrown open and a tall, slender sentinel stepped through. The badge on his shoulder indicated his rank in the military of this world. He scanned the empty parapet and then craned his head upward to the now empty wall embrasure and down again, checking for bodies on the rocks below. There was no sign of any intruders here. He made certain to swipe aside the curtains as he stepped back inside, hoping to uncover the trespasser, but without success. The window latch was dropped into place and his curt voice directed the rest of his men to other windows and other access points, growing fainter as he departed.

Once he was gone a slender hand reached over the top of the railing and gripped the stone tightly. A pale head appeared shortly thereafter and finally a pair of legs swung over the edge. It hadn't been easy to grip the smooth wall underneath the overhang and out of sight of anybody standing on top of it, but this wasn't the first time she'd pulled this particular stunt either. Finally on solid ground, she heaved a lungful of air before employing a slender blade as a lock picking device, pushing the latch up and swinging the stained glass window open.

The room seemed to be some sort of study. There were hand-written books on every surface and a few intricately carved chairs and a few tapestries adorning the walls. Andie moved carefully through the dark and unfamiliar room until she was standing next to the small crack of light on the floor that indicated the door into the corridor of the castle. She listened intently to the noises that were fading outside the portal and when they had all but disappeared, she took a chance and opened the door.

In front of her was a narrow stone corridor. Across from her was another door, presumably into a similar room, and the other direction led into a wider corridor, filled with more noise. By her estimation, Reed was at least two floors above her. She would need to find a disguise and a stairwell, and if time permitted, the patient she was supposed to be looking after according to her promise to the captain.

It was going to be a very long night.


	11. Chapter 11

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 11

* * *

_Interior Castle:_

_Early morning_

Outside the stone walls the wind picked up velocity and screamed around the corners. The dark was disturbed by a flash of light streaking down from the sky, displaying all the dim corners of the hall for a moment and illuminating a shady figure sticking to shadows and treading lightly so as not to be discovered. It had taken a great deal of maneuvering, and skulking, and plain old hiding to reach the third level without detection. Claps of thunder often muffled her footsteps on the solid floor. A cloak pilfered from an unguarded hook down below hid her human features from sight. In spite of her disguise she was worried about detection. Her pants and boots were definitely not _haute couture_ on this world, and anyone who looked closely at her face would see that she didn't belong.

As had happened several times now a noise ahead made her stop and duck quickly into a curved aperture in the wall designed to display relics, seeking shelter behind a long tapestry. Nearly a dozen dark-robed and hooded men entered the corridor from a side aisle, walking in pairs with their heads bowed and their hands folded over small leather-bound tomes. They executed a sharp turn and headed away from the woman's position to her sharp relief, although she continued to hold her breath as the hooded men walked past so close to her that the displaced air from their passage wafted the tassels at the bottom of the hanging she hid behind. There were no sudden illuminations from lightning during this time and she remained undetected.

Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. There was something to be said for the thrill of intrigue and the fear of discovery; it kept her on her toes. The panic she was keeping at bay threatened to burst forth but she concentrated on keeping her breathing even and steady. Not for the first time she contemplated the idea that her partner had been correct in his assessment that this mission was suicidal, but she pushed that down into her chest with her fear. There would be time to think about those things later. The hooded men were gone now; she would have to leave her hiding place and continue her search for her companion.

So intent was she on watching the crowds of men depart, she did not notice the door to her right had opened again. A dark figure, similarly robed and hooded as the others, stepped out of the shadows but she was intent on watching the other end of the corridor and did not see the imperceptible movement until it was too late. A hand clamped across her mouth and an arm wrapped around her torso, trapping her limbs against her body and dragging her back into the passageway behind. She fought, using her elbows and heavy boots to attack what parts she could reach. One particularly solid blow hit the shin of her captor eliciting a hissed response.

"Bugger!"

Andie stopped struggling immediately. "Reed?" she whispered from behind his palm. One hand reached over her head to feel the features of the man behind her, searching for familiar characteristics.

Reed shivered when her fingers brushed against the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck. He didn't answer her, but dragged her back into the small cloakroom and shoved her against the wall, letting the door swing closed and leave them in privacy. "What were you thinking?" He kept his voice low but he couldn't keep the anger from his tone.

"I was thinking that you should wash your hands before using them as a human gag," she remarked tartly, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "And I'm fine," she added.

"Don't make jokes!" The flat of Reed's hand hit the stone wall behind her and gave indication that Reed was closer to the edge than she'd ever seen him. He leaned in close to search her face in the dimness. "Are you all right?"

Andie's eyes widened with surprise at his display of temper, but she dropped the playful demeanor. "I got the wind knocked out of me, and I've got some rope burn, but I'm fine," she reported quietly.

Malcolm snatched her hands in his to inspect the damage. "Anything could have happened to you out there," he murmured mournfully, eyeing the roughened skin.

_He had really nice hands_, she noted, not for the first time. They had long fingers with light calluses and a kind touch. _This was no time to be getting distracted_, she reprimanded herself. "I'm fine," she hissed, snatching her hands out of his grasp. "I can take care of myself!"

"This isn't a game!" he bit out. "You should not have cut the rope! We shouldn't have split up!"

"I would never have made it to your side!" she countered. "I took the chance that splitting up would divide their defenses and double the chance of our survival!"

"From now on we stick together! You will not leave my side even if I have to bind you to me with chains!" he growled. "If we go down, we go down together!"

This was not the time to smirk at his unfortunate choice of words. Andie bit back the smile with effort. "Okay," she soothed him with her soft words.

"We have to leave," Malcolm told her, leaning back to offer her space, but not relaxing. It had been almost a half an hour since she'd disappeared from his sight and they'd wasted too much time already skulking about this dark fortress. A portentous clap of thunder outside seemed to agree with him. The doctor, unsurprisingly, did not.

"I have a job to do and I'm not leaving until it's done," Andie told him firmly. "That is not negotiable," she added when he seemed about to object. "It should be easy enough; there aren't as many soldiers in these corridors as I would have thought."

"The guards are under the impression that the intruders have moved toward the front of the castle. Apparently all their greatest treasures are housed in the mid-tower."

"Mid-tower?" she did smirk now at his ease with the lingo. "Why would they think that?"

"Two of their guards appeared to suffer from narcolepsy."

"Narco-" She didn't even have time to finish the question before he cut her off.

"Actually a pair of small rocks rendered them unconscious." The pride was evident in his voice. It had been a beautiful shot: his arm extended, each stone was released at the opportune moment, and each collided with their targets with precision. To make one such shot was to be successful; to make the second shot was just plain beautiful.

"Reed! They could have concussions!" The doctor sounded exasperated now.

"They might kill us!" he countered. "Put on this cleric's robe!" Malcolm tossed her one of the heavy gray robes similar to the one that he was wearing that hung on hooks around the room. "There's nothing on this level but libraries and religious cloisters. We'll have to go up." He hadn't taken the time to perform a thorough investigation of the top floor; there had been too many people there at the time. Hopefully their numbers has thinned.

Andie pulled off the worn traveler's cloak she'd filched from downstairs and dragged the heavy cassock over her head. "I thought they were priests, not clerks," she grunted, pushing her hair out of her face and wrapping the thickly braided rope around her waist to secure the woolen garb. She had to wind it twice around her narrow waist.

"Medieval clerics often filled a similar role. They were keepers of information and purveyors of knowledge," he peeked out the narrow door into the empty corridor to ascertain if they were still alone. "Most of the peasantry didn't have any schooling and relied on the clerics to read and write."

The lady bit her lip as she thought of the way the inhabitants of this world had left Lucan to lie in the dark without any burial rituals. "If they don't have a strong religion, then what do they value?" she murmured.

Malcolm turned around, moved by the sorrow in her voice. Anything he might have said evaporated in his mouth when he saw that she'd drawn the garment over the pack on her back, giving her a distinctively hunch-backed appearance. "All you need is a bell tower," he grunted, stifling the smile.

"We're going to announce our presence?" she queried in confusion, not getting the reference.

"We're going to get out of here." He declined to explain his remark further. He could lecture her endlessly about literary characters when they were back with the rest of the crew. Snatching a couple of the small prayer books from a stack near the door, he offered one to Andie as he led the way into the main corridor. She followed with her head appropriately bowed.

Slipping out of the closet wearing their new disguises, they crept through the corridors. It was only marginally less dangerous than before. If their camouflage didn't fool the palace guards, it would be difficult to present themselves as peaceful explorers when they were obviously trying to infiltrate a secret place. Reed led the way, although he couldn't help but look back at his charge frequently to make certain she didn't wander off. The side staircase lit up with blinding whiteness when lightning flared outside the many windows on the outer wall of the castle. The storm was gathering strength.

They passed a man in a silky tunic on the stairs. He didn't pay them any mind, seeming more worried about the clap of thunder outside than the two clerics he passed; he actually cried out when the thunder echoed through the stone walls. The tray he carried rattled as he scurried through the darkness and down to the next set of steps. Reaching the landing, Reed turned toward the center of the building and peered into the weakly lit hall.

A door opened down the corridor, and Reed extended a hand to press Andie back against the wall. Several dark robed clergy members exited the room and moved somberly off in the opposite direction. They didn't even look around. Two guards exited the room and followed the clerics. Two more exited and turned toward the hidden pair, apparently to take up position at the top of the stairs as the others had done, passing Reed and Andie without comment. There was no more hiding; Reed and Andie would have to maneuver in plain sight. Snatching a silver bowl from the table beside her, Andie held it carefully in front of her and made certain to lower her head and appear to be meditating. Reed nodded in agreement; they would attract less attention if it looked like they had a task to perform. Together they moved from their hasty hiding space into the center of the corridor and prepared to make their way through the suddenly populated corridor to the set of stairs on the other side.

It turns out they didn't need to worry about the guards at the top of the stairs; it was the pair of sentries standing attentively outside the door that was so popular that proved troublesome. One of the guards caught sight of them and swept an arm to indicate that they should enter the room. "After you, good fathers," he murmured reverently. A clap of thunder made him jump and he missed the furtive look exchanged between the pair. Caught as they were, Reed could only nod and pass in between the two heavily armed men. Andie followed obediently. Once they were inside, the door shut behind them with a solid bang. Reed and Andie found themselves accidentally in the place they had wanted to be.

"That was too easy," Reed mumbled; conscious of the pair on the other side of the heavy door.

"I'll take whatever 'easy' I can get,' Andie groused. She took a moment to look around the room. "Perhaps it was fate."

"You believe an omniscient being knew that you would climb down the ravine against advice, enter the castle from behind and cut the rope before you clambered across?" Reed snorted quietly.

"You prefer to think that a series of random chances brought us through all of that to the exact place we wanted to be?" she counted with an arched brow that would give the most earnest Vulcan pause.

Reed shrugged then dropped the argument as he moved further into the room, automatically seeking out exits and traps. Andie stepped further in and eyed the well-furnished abode. It was more spacious than she'd expected. Where the rest of the castle was cold and drafty, this room was toasty warm. A fire burned in the fireplace, tapestries kept out the worst of the winds and chill in the air, and comfortable chairs and tables were scattered around the room, covered in papers and books and feathered pens. Clearly someone of importance lived here.

The majority of space was taken up with a large four-poster bed, complete with rich hangings at the corners. As rain began to pelt the multi-colored glass window, something twitched under the covers, causing Andie to gasp. She pointed with one shaking finger. She'd found the occupant in a creepy moment worthy of Trip's penchant for scary movies. Feeling silly for being startled, she cleared her throat cautiously and stepped forward for a better look.

An old man rested upon fine pillows. Although he had the same features as human, two eyes, one nose and one mouth, they did not jut out of his face so much as they seemed to drip down to his chin. Recalling vaguely the features of the men in the forest, the doctor realized their nightmarish visages had not been figments of her imagination, but physical differences that set them apart from the humans. The man in the bed had white hair that played around his shoulders, matching the trim beard that covered his lower face. His dropping cheeks made him look like a basset hound but his body was taut with muscles. He was also covered in sweat and he shook violently with chills. His body was bare from the bedclothes upward and dark spots littered his naked chest.

"Ugh! Frickin' leeches!" Andie grumbled in a whisper. She hurried across the room and began to pull the black, slimy creatures off the body and drop them unceremoniously in the silver bowl she carried. "People think they can grab any old bloodsucker from the river and it'll be fine! Phlox, at least, makes certain his creatures aren't going to transfuse some other disease first!"

"Don't!" Reed protested. "They'll know we were here!" He whispered in as stern a tone as he could manage without adding volume.

"We were let into the room by two guards. They already know somebody's here!" Andie whispered back, not stopping her rescue of the body from parasitic infestation. "If you're worried, lock the door!"

It was sound advice. Malcolm inspected the knob and found that the lock required a key. He looked around for the device, then gave up and grabbed a plush chair, tilting it under the door knob to keep it from turning.

"Very high-tech!!" Andie smirked, struggling to pull her medical scanner from under mountains of robes.

"What's wrong with him?" Reed inquired, peering carefully out the windows in the room. One large tapestry took up nearly an entire wall, depicting a tower full of light.

"Poison, I think," she answered. "I'd need more sensitive machines to be more specific." She pulled another device out of her kit along with a box of vials and prepared to fill the hypo-spray with an anti-biotic.

"You can't give him medicine!" Reed whispered indignantly. "He might be allergic!"

Andie shrugged. "He's dying anyway. I can't screw up his diagnosis."

"Except that they might think we..." It was too late; the hypo-spray hissed. "...we did it to him." Reed finished exasperatedly.

"He was brought in like this before we got here," she pointed out.

"Maybe we followed him and finished the job!" Reed countered.

Andie considered that. "Yeah, that could look bad," she agreed futilely.

Tilting his head up to look at the ceiling offered him the chance to count to ten. Sometimes she made him want to tear his hair out. Like now, he acknowledged as he brought his chin down and looked at her chewing on something.

She'd pilfered something from a food tray.

"You're stealing food from a man at death's door?" he whisper-shouted in outrage.

"If he's at death's door, he won't need it. And I think he's rich enough to get a second plate if he wants," she pointed out, offering a strip of meat to Malcolm.

He really wanted to huff and sigh in frustration, but his stomach growled. He took the slab of meat and sniffed it. "What if it was his food that was poisoned?"

" Eye 'ohn 'in 'o," she grunted through a full mouth, indicating that she'd know by now if it had been. Holding a large piece of bread in her mouth by her sharp teeth, she was pulling back the covers to get a better look at the naked shivering man. She found what she was looking for and pulled the bun out of her mouth. "See? I didn't think the food was poisoned."

What she pointed at was a pair of holes in the man's leg at the center of a swelling red spot. They were the same size and spaced so closely together, possibly made by fangs. "Snake, maybe, or spider," she decided, waving her medical scanner over the insertion point. Someone had tried to manage the infection by tying a cord above and below the wound, which made the physician grumble under her breath. She took a knife from the food tray and sliced carefully into the hot swollen skin on the man's calf. Malcolm held his breath, waiting for the man to wake up, but there was only the rasp of labored breathing. Something with a greenish tint oozed from the opened wound. Andie scraped a sample into a container for future study. She changed the cylinder in the hypo for another and pressed it again into the man's neck, brushing aside the heavy decorative chain that rested there.

She continued to peer at the body as she applied medicine and clean gauze to the seeping wound.

"This isn't a peep show, Doctor!" Reed protested on behalf of the unconscious naked man, staring anywhere else in the room. He found a basin against the wall with two familiar looking levers hanging above it. A quick test of the levers showed him that the sink did indeed offer both hot and cold running water. Instead of relieving his curiosity, it only made him more confused. _What was a regular sink doing here in this time and place?_ He wetted a cloth with warm water and used it to wipe the forehead of the sick man, resisting the urge to check his chronometer.

Andie was applying a cream to a contusion on the patient's torso; it smelled starkly sterile. "There are no scars on his body. His hands aren't callused and his feet are soft. There's some bruising of the torso and face, but that's consistent with recent physical abuse." She looked at Reed. "This rich guy took a beating then stepped on something poisonous. You don't think Archer stepped on the same creature, do you?"

Reed was peering around the room more intently now. A rack in the corner caught his eye. Someone had removed the man's clothes and hung them up to dry and he rifled through the pants and tunic, looking for answers to at least a few of his questions.

"Where's that snake bite?" he inquired, lifting up a pair of shiny, black leather boots from a pile of discarded clothing. He offered the shoe to Andie who placed it up against the man's leg. "I don't think he stepped on something poisonous."

"The bite is under the boot," she confirmed. "Unless he was wearing a different pair?"

"There's only one pair here, with the clothes I think they just took off of him." In turning back Malcolm noted something else that was definitely going to make things more interesting.

"The boot isn't damaged on the outside. Whatever happened came from inside his boot. Spider, then," Andie decided. "Boot's too snug for a snake to sleep in there." Dropping the boot, she began pulling the blankets back over the shivering body.

"Oh, bugger," Reed cursed with a sinking stomach. He bent over to get a closer look at the item sealed inside a clear glass box. Light gleamed on the edges of the item and he cursed out loud.

"Right here? Kinky," Andie jested lightly.

Reed grimaced at her inappropriate humor and pointed to the metal circle. He watched her move closer to stare at the object in puzzlement for a moment before he saw comprehension dawn.

"That's a crown?" she inquired. The metal band was two fingers wide and sported a jeweled starburst at the forefront.

"Yes," he agreed shortly. Tension was squeezing against his rib cage.

"Oh, it's definitely time to go," she decided, stuffing her belongings into her knapsack and securing the latches. "We are so screwed! They might forgive us if we kill a nobleman, but they won't be so generous with their king! Even if he lives they'll kill us just for touching him!" She hid the knapsack under her robes again and pulled the hood over her face.

Reed couldn't disagree. He stepped forward and had his hand on the chair still holding the door shut when he stopped. Andie bumped into him with a soft grunt when he froze.

"The hell?" she protested in a whisper.

"There's a crowd," Reed whispered in a low voice. He closed his eyes and leaned in closer, trying to discern the number of voices, versus the number of feet outside. The knob attempted to turn, but the chair held fast. "At least four," he decided.

They both jumped when the door thumped as though a heavy weight was shoved against it.

"We're looking for another exit," Reed told her shortly, turning back into the room. There was the window, but a quick look outside told him that they would need to be spiders to climb the smooth brick wall in either direction.

There were more thumps now, coupled with angry voices.

"Hide behind a tapestry?" Andie suggested. She swept one aside with a flourish. It was the large one with the picture of the lighthouse and the falling stars.

"If it was me, I'd run them through with a sword rather than search behind them," Reed answered. He stopped. "Wait! What was that?" He pulled the heavy hanging aside again.

Behind the heavy fabric was a square outline.

"Yes! Secret passageways!" Reed cheered quietly. There was quite a beating of the solid portal occurring in the corridor outside the room. They were running out of time. The fancy chair holding out the soldiers shuddered under their weight.

Reed felt the outline of the rectangle with his hands looking for pressure points.

"Maybe there's a key," Andie whispered, turning to look through the richly appointed room.

"That would be impractical in time of war," Reed noted. "Keys get lost."

"Not everybody is as smart as you, Reed," Andie sassed, opening books and boxes quickly, unmindful of the mess she left behind. The goons in the forest had been looking for a key; she remembered that now. Once again she wondered what the key was supposed to open. Standing over the dirty clothes, she glanced back at the king, lying fitfully on his bed with the jewelry chain around his neck. Her brow furrowed with heavy thoughts as she stepped closer.

Another grunt and a prick of his fingers later, Reed smirked in triumph. "At least I'm as smart as I think I am!" Pressure applied to a particular brick caused one side of the door to release its catch and swing open, exposing a very narrow passageway.

Dr. Andie raised her eyebrows in surprise, smoothing the blankets back over the sleeping king. "I wouldn't go that far," she snorted. The barricaded door behind them shuddered under the weight of what must be a concerted effort.

"Get in the hole!" he directed. She dropped to her knees and scrambled through, with Reed following behind. He pulled the tapestry to cover the door and then pulled the door closed behind them, leaving them in ultimate darkness.

Andie's heart rate sped up. She hated the dark, in a way nobody else could possibly imagine. Her respiration began to rise, gasping and choking on the dark. Fear spurred her forward through the narrow tunnel. Against Reed's protests, she kicked open the doorway at the end of the passage and breathed deeply of the fresh air, uncaring of what might await her on the other side as she tumbled out, tangled on the heavy robe.

Fortunately it was just a stairwell. It wasn't the main stairs, but a smaller, narrower one that appeared to wind in sharp circles both up and down. There were no torches here, but there was some light coming through the narrow arrow slits cut into the rock at periodic intervals.

"There could have been guards here!" Reed hissed.

"Up or down?" she wanted to know, ignoring his reasoning. He was right, but there was no way she could have waited there in that dark hole. Freedom and fresh air were all she wanted.

"Down," he decided, concerned by her pallor. "We don't want to get caught at the top of the tower." He grabbed her icy hand and began pulling her down the steps behind him. They hadn't gone more than thirty steps before the clatter of feet below indicated that someone else knew about the secret passage. He slid to a halt. "Nope, up is the way to go," he amended, spinning around and pushing her up the steps ahead of him.

The trip up was not as easy as the way down, challenging muscles that screamed from their recent over-exertions. Scrambling up the shallow steps required both hands, since the clergy robes had to be held out of the way of running feet. Andie was practically scrambling on all fours, when a silver blade whisked out of the darkness to impale the tip into the wall on the other side. If she'd been standing, she might have lost her head.

Reed was upon the attacker before he had a chance to pull back the sword and attempt another strike. The lieutenant planted a fist squarely in the face of the man that had crawled out of the same passageway from which Reed and Andie had escaped. Andie, half seated on the stair tread, saw the man reach for a shorter bladed knife and kicked out with one leg, knocking the silver blade out of the guard's hand before he could cut the armory officer. The dagger dropped with a clatter. Reed punched the man again, even as he noted the badge of rank on the man's shoulder. The attacker crumpled to the ground. Reed snatched up the fallen weapon and, so armed, reached for the doctor once more.

"Up!" he commanded. "Andie, come on!" Reed snatched her arm and dragged her behind him as his speed overtook hers. From below the sounds of chase reached his ears; they were about to be swarming with other armed persons.

The stairs emptied through a trap door onto the walkway that connected one of the tallest towers at the rear to one of the medium towers in the middle. On the far side of the nearest turret was the point where Malcolm had climbed over. He hoped the rope would still be there as he clasped Andie's arm and hurried her in that direction. Andie gulped the fresh air with gratitude, grateful for the torrent of rain that obscured the view and chilled her to the bone.

Between the segments of walk they sought and their present location was a small roundhouse, meant to secure the main steps that led down into the castle. Sounds of marching feet and the clanking of chain mail could be heard coming from down below. Reed stopped moving forward and backtracked, hoping to lock the trapdoor leading into the roundhouse to buy them some time. There was no lock on this side of the door. He drove his recently purloined knife into the hinges at the edge of the door, hoping it would slow the guards down by jamming the portal closed. They resumed their flight to their initial entry point, but saw the armored men standing guard over its location. With a muttered curse, Reed changed direction and dragged the doctor behind him through the roundhouse

Racing against time, Reed and Andie hurried back across the slippery walk leading to Mid-tower, only to hear the same sounds of pursuit from the next covered archway. They backed up slowly. There was no other door, no other direction. "We're trapped," Malcolm panted. "We'll have to surrender, unless you can summon a shuttle or sprout wings and fly?"

They were a stone's throw from the waterfall, too distant from the narrow crevice that led from the dangerously steep ravine to do them any good; not that their luck was likely to hold as they tried to climb the steep embankment in this torrential rain, but their other option was to wait in the rain for the royal guards to show up and hope they could convince the men that they meant their king no harm. Andie's smile was faint as she leaned over the embrasure to check out the churning moat beneath them. "Haven't I told you, Reed? I can fly."

Reed peered over the edge of the tower walk. It was a steep drop straight into the waters ravaged by the falls that churned the water into frenzy. He wiped the chilly rain from his sweating face. "We'd probably be killed on impact. There's no telling what kind of rocks lie down there." He could hear soldiers trying to get through the door he had temporarily barred behind them.

"We can make it!"

"NO!" He was adamant. They were not going into the water! The tide would draw them back around and they'd be crushed underneath the water fall!

She sniffled and he turned. "I'm sorry, Malcolm. I won't place my life in the hands of a society that doesn't value women. You'd be placed in prison, but there's no telling what they would do to me." She shook her head adamantly. "No way, Sparky."

Reed stepped closer to her. He hadn't considered what might happen to her. "Andie, I won't let anything happen to you. Don't fall apart on me now!" he commanded gruffly, shaking her shoulders like she was a child.

"I won't," she answered with more steel in her voice. By stepping closer to her, he had opened himself up to attack from his ally. She planted a knee directly between his legs and while he was bent over with the excruciating pain, Andie grabbed him by his collar and the rope belt that wrapped around his waist and slung him bodily over the edge of the tower walk.

Malcolm Reed cursed her treachery all the way down.

"I hope you can swim," Andie muttered, stepping back and preparing to make a running leap at the drop herself.

"Lady!"

The voice behind her made her head swivel. It was the young man from the spiral staircase, the one with the badge across his shoulder.

There was no time for pleasantries. Andie held out a hypo-spray. "Put this end to his neck. Push this button. Once in the morning, once in the evening," she directed sternly. "Keep him warm and dry. No more leeches and he should be fine!" She looked at the raging waters. "I've gotta go." She took two running steps and slipped out of his reach as he lunged toward her, sailing over the edge of the embrasure, down to the tumultuous waters below.

It was a lot farther down that it had looked.

There was a loud crash as the door of the roundhouse gave way. "Captain Roland! M'lord, Where are they? Where did they go?" The guards asked of the tall man with the bloody nose.

"She flew away," the Roland uttered with wide eyes. "She just flew away." Sensing the confusion on the face of the others, the captain of the guard regained his composure and growled with frustration. "Regroup on the other side of the Tower! There will be no rest until we pull their bodies from the river!"

A chorus of 'aye's' preceded their hasty redirection. The captain of the guard peered over the edge at the dark tides below. The world was in upheaval; never before had a pair of strangers ever breached the royal castle. Yet they had come at a desperate time when his king lay gasping his last breath. He fingered the metal device the smaller intruder had left behind, surprised that the woman had spoken and acted so forcefully. He was tempted to throw the cursed object into the waters out of fear that this might be the thing that ended his masters' life; perhaps they had arrived to finish the job. Instead he secured the item inside his cloak.

There were more dutiful matters to attend. He was a Captain of the Guard of the last king of Renaisterre, and his liege lay dying. He would not let the unfaithful prosper. His sodden cloak swirled around him as he took his leave.

* * *

_Castle Moat_

_Day Five: Early_

The water was cold and moving fast, but thankfully it was very deep. The tower walk was only four stories high and Malcolm plunged all the way to the bottom of the water. Terror clutched his chest, making him want to suck air into his lungs, but first he had to kick his feet and allow his buoyancy to bring him to the surface. There was just enough time once he broke the surface to gasp for air before a hard thump drove all the oxygen from his lungs. Uncaring of the damage to his ribs, Malcolm wrapped his arms around the rock he'd hit and hung on.

He was going to kill her slowly. He made a solemn vow. The thought of her painful death cheered him somewhat.

Tons of water poured down on him from the river behind him and the rock was slippery with lichen; both made holding his position on the rock next to impossible, especially when a weight collided against him from behind, driving him off the rock that was his salvation and leaving him free floating again. Malcolm struggled against the tides that threatened to suck him under. Mosquitoes swarmed around his head, and he swatted at them futilely.

"Reed!"

He recognized that detestable voice.

"Reed, stop struggling!"

He could feel it now, the way her arms wrapped around his chest, and the way her legs tangled with his under the water that was moving them around the castle as swiftly as it could manage, driving them into a barrage of underwater debris.

"You did this!" His teeth were chattering so he could barely speak, but he would curse her with his last breath if there was any justice in the world!

"Keep your head down!" she snarled.

Something brushed past him in the water. He could just make it out in the faint light; something narrow and tipped with feathers. Arrows, he recognized. They weren't mosquitoes; they were arrows swarming around. Somebody was shooting at him with bows and arrows.

Down underneath the blackened water, something touched his feet. His foot dragged against the unyielding structure. Pumping his legs up and down, he found it; solid ground. Shrugging off the doctor's assistance, he stumbled and tripped until the water was only around his thighs.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he shouted. "Are you crazy?"

"Sometimes crazy helps," she answered tersely, casting a glance across the water and urging him further onto shore. Torches lined the water's edge on the other side, and light glinted off the armor in a dull sheen. More and more men were gathering. "Come on!" Pushing him ahead of her, she directed him further out of the water and deeper into the thicket that lined the river's edge. Hampered by the clergy robes they still wore, they stumbled along awkwardly as arrows continued to whiz by overhead. The ground underneath their feet was soggy and their feet fought against the sucking mud.

Malcolm had stopped just ahead of her. He'd run out of ground to walk on. Just in front of him the path turned into rock slicked by constant water flow. The roar of the waterfall filled their ears and washed away the path. They had no place else to go.

"Here!" she called out.

He hated the idea before he'd even turned around to see her planned direction. It was a narrow passage snug against the rock wall; a depression in the mountain covered with slick algae and unseen from the forces standing on the castle walls.

"We'll be trapped!" he protested through chattering teeth, listening to the sound of water tumbling away in that small cave she was leading him into.

"The water's not backing up. It's going somewhere," she answered grimly. She was spinning him around. Her sharp knife cut the belt from his waist and the heavy robes were dragged off him. She tossed the bulky fabric into the water to be carried around the tide, and hopefully, provide a decoy.

That damned woman had his arm again, was dragging him closer to that dark hole in the earth, which was full of darkness and water, and where Reed had no intention of going. He struggled against her insistent pull. Just when he thought he'd won, thought he'd broken free of her and intended to go back and beg mercy from the men in the castle, she clutched his arm. Malcolm clutched at the muddy walls, trying to secure leverage to drag himself away from that albatross of a woman. His feet slid on the spongy surface of the ground and suddenly a deep groan that came not from him but the mountain itself filled his ears.

Reed struggled to stand in the soft bottomed muck that was growing muddier with every passing second. He struggled to maintain his footing, snarling. "I am going to..." His voice was cut off by a loud slurp. The floor under their feet gave way, dropping the struggling pair through a crack that appeared from out of nowhere.

Gallons of cold, muddy water followed their descent into a pit, choking the air from their lungs. Andie's hand slipped off of Malcolm's arm in the darkness and he thrashed around, trying to catch his breath. A second groan followed the first and the floor gave way again, sending Malcolm through another fissure where he felt his body falling freely through the air before hitting something that felt like concrete. He was underwater again, and his arms and legs struggled uselessly against the wet world around him. There was nothing to do but hold his breath and hope there would continue to be air to breathe.

Pressure against his lungs was intense; he longed to inhale. His arms and legs fought against the weight pulling him down and he tried to ignore the spots that danced behind the lids of his tightly closed eyes. _He would talk. They would make him talk! _There was a feeling of something brushing past him and his head cleared the surface of the water just as his mouth opened to gasp like a fish on land. Air sucked into his lungs with a whoosh! Thankfully there was oxygen rather than liquid to breathe and he gasped his fill of the precious, stale air. Slowly he realized that something was wrapped around him, hindering his respiration. There was a hand against his chest. There was another under his arm. There was a weight at his back. He wasn't lost in his nightmare; he was someplace much worse. As he concentrated on his surroundings, he could hear that damned woman murmuring in his ear.

"It's all right, Malcolm! I'm certified for water rescue on four different worlds. I've got you, Reed! You're safe! I've got you, Lieutenant! It's all right! I'm certified for water rescue..." The words echoed over and over again in his ear, much as he had crooned soothing nothing words to a terrified woman in her sleep just a few nights ago.

His terror was deep and it took several minutes for the truth of their situation to seep into his awareness. "We're going to need water rescue!" he choked out, struggling to get free, to find land. Her body was under his, floating underneath, keeping him out of the endless depths and his struggles sent her head under the surface of the water, cutting off her soothing words with a gurgle. Being alone seemed much worse than simply drowning, and Malcolm stretched out his hands under the surface of the water that sped along with him in tow. She popped above the surface again, and slipped her arms more securely around his middle, supporting his body on top of hers. For one moment he was grateful for her presence and his rational mind took over once more, gathering Intel from the world around him.

They were speeding along in the world's longest and darkest water tunnel. He took a moment, as he always did, to marvel at the complete idiots who spent good money to go to water parks and go through this while on vacation, calling it relaxing!

"We're fine, Colm!" she spoke into his ear through teeth on the verge of chattering, falling back on the nickname she'd given him in a pirate bar.

"We are not fine, Dräe!" he responded in kind. "We're drowning!"

"We're floating," she corrected him. "We're in a long tunnel and the water's moving fast, but there's plenty of room and we're floating!" It was such a relief that he was forming sentences now, even if they were curses on her name. That mindless panic had terrified her; Reed always seemed so unflappable, even if he liked to shout at her.

Something jerked them and they swirled around together, making Malcolm groan from the motion. But Andie kept her grip and in a few moments, they had resumed their forward course and she continued her mindless soothing chatter. Just as they straightened out, Malcolm could see a vague lessening of the eternal darkness, illuminating a large boulder just under the swirling water. It was lucky they hadn't hit that. Then the light was gone and they were in the dark again.

"Hold on," Andie grunted in his ear. One arm released his chest and he could feel her moving around behind him, reaching for the pocket closest to her shin. There was a crack and several shakes and then the sick yellow glow of her nocturnal light sticks burned against their eyes. "Better?" she questioned, sliding her arms around him again.

"No," he protested. But he was lying. It was a wide tunnel that curved and swirled around in too many directions to follow. The motion was making him queasy. Malcolm noted rocks placed into a roughly smooth pattern. The tiles were old and chipped, and in the space above the water line they were covered with algae, but they were definitely not a natural phenomenon. That would indicate a man-made structure, like a canal. If this was a canal there would be someplace to get out.

"We're in an aqueduct," he gasped. His lips were almost too cold to form words. The water felt like it had melted straight off a snow pack.

"That's my guess," Andie choked out.

"There are no doors or access portals," he shivered.

"Not that I've seen," she concurred grimly, swirling her body around to take the brunt of the blow as some debris lurched above water in front of them. She swiveled again when they were on the other side and Malcolm continued to face forward.

It was hard to tell how far they traveled or how long they'd been underground. All they could be certain of was that not a single person had followed them. There would be no way to catch them.

"Do you hear that?" Andie stopped her mindless reassurances suddenly, arching forward in an attempt to see what was coming ahead. Malcolm lifted the glow rod higher. Their movement shifted and Reed could feel her legs kicking underneath him, trying to guide them to the side of the water duct. By dragging her hand against the slick tiles on the wall she slowed their progress somewhat.

He could hear it now, while having sufficient time to hate that she had removed one of her arms from its securing place around his middle. The noise was loud and splashy, coupled with the occasional _glurg_. "It sounds like a bath tub drain," he grunted around teeth that chattered.

"That looks like a handle," she grunted. From behind him she lunged. Reed could feel her body rise out of the water from the force of her kicking legs and he tightened his grip on her arm still around his torso. She caught the metal bar and the forward motion of their bodies stopped short with a jerk. Andie wrapped her legs around Malcolm's waist; the water continued to keep him aloft, bobbing in the fast moving tide, but relieving the worst of his extra weight from her arm. He discovered he was in no danger of floating off because she'd used the extra length at the end of her braided belt to secure his body to hers, probably during those first few minutes where the world had been nothing but darkness. Feeling somewhat secured, Malcolm lunged upwards, forcing his legs to propel him in the unaccustomed direction until he found the bar she held, and dangled a few extra centimeters out of the rush of the frigid waves.

Feeble yellow light let them know the room they were in was narrower than the tunnel. There seemed to be writing on the wall ahead of them, but most of it seemed too faint to make out. Swirls of water circled in front of each written label then disappeared; it seemed that this was a main water directory and several smaller pipes took their load to a different location. If they got sucked into one, there was no telling how long they would have to hold their breath before they got into another larger tube, assuming there was another to be had.

"Oh, we can't go there!" Malcolm protested, hating his fear of water and the weakness that came over him whenever he was in it. He felt like a six year old boy again, thrown off his cousin's boat and reaching for a life line that never came.

"You're right," she agreed. Holding the light rod up higher, she discovered writing above their heads. 'Tower Fount' was spelled out in complicated letters. "We're still under the castle?" she queried out loud.

"Or another one," Reed pointed out.

"Who would put two castles far apart then share water rights?" she asked.

"There's no swirling water," he pointed out the calm tide they were bobbing in. "Perhaps the pipe isn't open."

"We need to get it open," she panted.

"No we don't!" he protested.

"We can't stay here," she pointed to the smaller pipes and the obstruction of the wall, "And we can't go back," she pointed out. The tide kept their legs floating just in front of them. There would be no swimming upstream.

"We can try to go up!" Malcolm pointed out. The handle they were both clinging to had the look of an old disused ladder. "Look!" he scrambled upward, trying to pull his body out of the water. He forgot she had tied them together. Not to mention the cold and weariness had tightened his muscles until they were almost useless, and he couldn't hold his own body weight even a few meters out of the ground. He slipped. He fell into the fast moving water, and was inexorably dragged forward to the sucking tubes that led downward into more water. Malcolm wanted to scream but his mouth was full of dirty water.

Andie was jerked forward when Malcolm fell, but she had the dubious distinction of still wearing her heavy woolen cassock on top of her survivor's kit. One or the other caught on something underneath the water and halted their progress toward the pipes that would surely mean death. She couldn't kick her legs in the wide robe and couldn't break the surface of the water to draw breath. She would have to get out of this tangle first. Her hands touched on an old lever underneath the tangle of watery clothes. She tried to disentangle her belt and robes from the ancient faucet handle and wound up turning the dial instead.

Underneath the water level, a passageway opened up with a roar. The water that needed to rush somewhere rushed into the new opening with gusto. Andie was sucked in feet first and had no time to call out to her companion. The warning wouldn't have mattered because Malcolm was still secured to her by her braided belt and he experienced a fresh surge of fear as his body was dragged underwater and forced through the same pipe. If he could have made a grab for her knife, which he knew she kept in her boot, he would have. Both their lungs were burning by the time their heads cleared the surface several minutes later.

Water gushed out of the opening into a shallow pool of water, and then kept filling up behind them. Andie grabbed a handful of Malcolm's uniform in one hand and when her body hit the flat surface of rock, she turned and gripped the top of that surface and held on as though their lives depended on it. Waves of water continued to swirl around them, full of thick algae and debris. Malcolm struggled against her grip, convinced she was something awful dragging him under again. Andie nearly lost her hold before his head cleared the surface enough to take note of their new surroundings.

The air was fresh and cold here. There was an opening in the ceiling above that led away from water. The rock they were gripping offered a narrow platform of dry land. In spite of his body's insistence that he do nothing at all, Reed managed to swing one leg onto the flat surface and with Andie shoving from behind, he dragged his whole body atop the dry surface. He took one second to revel in the simple, sturdy structure that got him out of the moving water and into the freezing night air, before he reached a hand down and struggled to bring the female next to him. She slipped and disappeared under the water before bobbing to the surface. A cascade of water deluged around him as she pushed her clergy robes over her head and disconnected her body from the water-logged pack she carried at her back.

Malcolm muttered curses under his breath about women and luggage, but obediently dragged the items further onto the slab. Without the extra weight, Andie managed to swing a leg up and roll her body onto the relatively dry surface next to Reed. They lay there panting in the semi-darkness.

"You don't...get to plan...the escapes...anymore," Reed panted.

"Bite me...it worked," she retorted breathlessly.

The sheer number of things Malcolm wanted to say about that almost choked him, like water filling up his lungs. He nearly strangled under the number of ways that her statement was wrong. Then he thought about how his silence probably constituted acceptance and he was enraged into silence all over again.

Andie rolled her head around. "You broken?" she grunted, testing all her limbs. They seemed to work, except for being stiff with cold.

Reed wanted to offer something witty that would cut her down to size, but he was so tired all he could manage was, "I'm fine." He could feel that damned woman shuffling around beside him, struggling to sit upright with her back against the wall. He shuffled over to give her some room. They studied the small enclosure in silence.

"Hell of an aqueduct," she muttered.

"More sophisticated than I would have expected," Reed mumbled. He took a deep breath and tried to blow warm air on his freezing hands. "We can't stay here."

"Sure we can," Andie objected tiredly. "I'm quite cozy."

"Water's rising," he spoke shortly.

Her eyes opened to verify that fact. Her four letter curse word was sufficient for both of them.

Rolling her head around, she tried to determine in which direction came the fresh air. It seemed to be over her right shoulder. "I guess we climb," she grunted, struggling to stand on her feet without whimpering in pain. Every muscle hurt.

"I'll go first," Malcolm insisted. He struggled to his feet, gritting his teeth against the pins and needles in his extremities and shuffling past her on the narrow platform to the partial opening at the top of another series of rungs settled deeply into the wall. At the top he had to paw his way through dirt and rock, causing more four letter words from Andie down below. "You'd think all that water would have cleaned out your mouth," he remarked through chattering teeth, before placing his hands on the side of the narrow hole and hoisting his body through the opening.

What he found topside made him grunt with surprise.


	12. Chapter 12

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 12

* * *

_Renaisterre: Nowhere near the damned castle!_

_In the middle of the damned night!_

"Andie? You need to climb up the ladder."

She grunted in agreement, but didn't open her eyes or attempt to move a single muscle. Her companion had been gone for several minutes and Andie had sunk down to sit with her back to the wall to wait for his return. Now she didn't think she could get up again.

"I'm not going to carry you up there," Malcolm warned her.

There was a point in which the human body got so tired it just wouldn't obey a single command offered by the human brain. "In a minute," she sighed, forcing her eyes open. It was still dark. It was still cold. It spite of the damp chill she might have nodded off for a moment.

"Even as I suffered from my own personal pain, which _you_ inflicted on me, I managed to get up the damned ladder, Doctor!" Reed's temper grew shorter. "Would it help you move faster if I kicked _you_ in the groin?" His temper was not fading. In fact, after what he saw up there, it was escalating.

"I wouldn't recommend that," Andie countered darkly. She considered threatening Reed with further bodily harm, but she just couldn't summon the effort. It took every ounce of will to push her hurting body up to stand on her aching feet, leaning against the dirty wall. She was going to have to lean back over to retrieve her satchel and cleric's robe, but she didn't think she could manage that.

"Let's go," he commanded. His whole body was cold and trembling as the aftereffects of adrenaline and fear seeped away. For just one moment when his body hit the water, his brain had ceased to transmit data. He couldn't believe he'd just shut down like that; in his line of work panic got people killed. Catatonia due to panic was certainly humiliating enough, but the worst part was that _she_ had witnessed it. As he collapsed, so needy and defenseless, she'd kept her head. She'd kept his head, too, above water. For a woman who pranced around like an entitled shrew, she'd retained control in the face of danger when his had fled. Malcolm despised her for it, almost as much as he hated himself. He forced his kinder sentiments aside, even though there was something pitiful about the way her shoulders slumped and her face remained expressionless, but he did bend over and grab that damned kit bag she wouldn't leave behind.

Andie stood at the bottom of the ladder rungs and stared at Reed dolefully. "Oh, definitely after you," Malcolm insisted, gesturing with one arm. "I'd rather not have you poking my behind to make me climb faster. It's only two dozen rungs," he encouraged sarcastically when she hesitated, peering up into the darkness.

"Only," she repeated with a bitter smile. The room they were in was rapidly filling up with water from the underground aqueduct, and they couldn't remain on this platform forever. _One movement at a time_, she told herself and settled for demanding one hand to ignore the stiffness caused by cold and grasp the first handhold securely. Her joints were numb and would hardly obey the command. The second movement was to direct one stiff knee to bend and settle one deadened foot on the lowest rung. Hand over hand, foot over foot, she made the climb slowly, as though in great pain.

The hole Reed had made at the top left little room for handrails and she crawled out of the muck onto a muddy plain. The open air savaged her wet body and the trembling started in earnest. She half-rolled away so that her companion could wriggle beside her in the mud and she stared up at the muddy sky that had cleared sufficiently to give her a view of three actual twinkling stars. Those gave her comfort. She was beginning to think that this life of chill and thick air and running from the natives was the constant and that her other life where she had been warm and traveled through space was the false one.

"There are small blessings. The rain stopped," Reed huffed behind her. She didn't answer. "Andie? Are you all right?" Her continued inactivity was becoming of some concern. That woman was never still and she was never silent; she had something to add to absolutely everything anyone said or did. He didn't like the way she just…laid there.

"I want..." her voice trailed away. The thought that popped into her mind was 'I want to go home' but she realized that she didn't really have of those to go to. There were places she could go, but none of them could truly offer the sense of permanent security that the word home implied. Home wasn't something she'd ever desired before either, being exceptionally happy to travel from one place to another with all of her belongings in a couple of steamer trunks and picking up whatever she might need in strange and exotic locations. There had to be a way to finish that sentence that wasn't false. "I want what everyone wants: a stiff drink, a hot bath and a soft bed."

Malcolm huffed out a breath of visible air in disgust. _There she was, thinking about physical comforts instead of taking a serious accounting of their situation!_ "I'm afraid those will have to wait, Doctor," he snarled. "Unless you recognize our surroundings and can plan a route back to camp!"

Andie sat up, wrapping her arms around her sodden knees in an effort to keep warm. The barest hint of moonlight from the minute opening in the clouds dressed the world in blue shadows. There was a tree a few meters away, bending and rustling in the wind; its tall form standing out starkly against a darker sky. There were a few low bushes gathered around a mound of rock that rose like a sentinel over the small hatch out of which the humans had crawled; the bushes huddled there as though frightened children seeking shelter from their large rounded mother. Other than that there was nothing to be seen; even the barren earth dropped away into nothingness a short distance away. More dark, jagged humps could be seen rising in the distance, but for now Andie and Reed were stuck on a flat plateau far above the forest floor, protected from the worst of the wind by the large hillock on one side and threatened by the steep drops on all the others.

"I don't know where we are," she admitted, feeling her stomach drop down into her frozen toes. She couldn't determine their whereabouts because there was a definite lack of anything nearby. They were very lost. In spite of the canal marking indicating a tower, there was no such structure to be found.

"Of course you don't know where we are!" Reed shouted. "Nobody knows where we are! That tunnel curved and turned in many directions and there's no telling how long we were under there or where we are now!" Malcolm didn't know what he had expected to find at the top of that ladder, but he had expected to find something! _Irrigation systems with clearly defined labels carved into laid stone didn't just lead to a vast amount of nothingness!_ No matter what he expected, however, they were far away from anyone and anything that might help them. "You just leaped into the muck without thinking about anything!" Reed hissed. "In case you were wondering, this is entirely your fault!"

"My fault? I didn't force you to come with me!" Andie was beginning to get mad. "You followed me of your own volition!"

"You didn't think I'd let you wander off in a civilization where they have no regard for women and anything could be done to you, do you?" He tossed her words back in her face. She'd played upon his gentleman's nature and he fumed at his own gullibility.

"I can take care of myself!" she tossed back hotly. "I don't need you following me around, camouflaging your blatant sexism under a cloak of chivalry!"

_How dare she call him sexist when all he'd ever done was try and help her?_ He turned steely eyes upon his companion. "If we ever get off this planet, I'm going to have you thrown off the ship!"

"Oh, we're definitely getting off this damn world!" she countered hotly. "Even if I have to build a ladder straight up to the stars, buddy! I will not spend my last days listening to your accusations!"

"Oh, now you have a plan!" he mocked her. "Too bad you waited to share it with the rest of us! We could be building a ladder right this minute!"

"We will get off this planet one way or another." Andie seethed. "Failure is _not_ an option!"

"Failure is a likely possibility," he continued to torment her. At least yelling at her was keeping him warm. "By the time Starfleet receives word, _if _they receive word, and get a ship out here, which won't be for a while if _Columbia's_ not ready yet, then…"

She stood and faced him, her ire growing with every word out of her mouth. "I WILL NOT SPEND THE REST OF MY DAYS ON THIS GODFORSAKEN PILE OF ROCK!"

Malcolm actually froze in place at the force of her wrath.

"This is _temporary_! We will get out of here because failure is _not_ an option! I will _not_ spend the rest of my life on the ground! I would rather _die_!" Every word was choked off as though she was strangling on each and every one. "Terran life!" she spat the offensive word out with prejudice. "Balanced precariously on a hunk of rock hurtling through space on some predisposed trajectory, just hoping that the laws of gravity don't decide to up and change one day, flinging everybody and their love of physics off the ground to rot in a cold, silent vacuum is _not_ how I'm going to spend the rest of my life! Nobody could _possibly_ prefer this life to one in space!" She kicked a small rock on the ground with disgust as she started stomping around their little flatland.

"Fluctutating temperatures! Unpredictable precipitation! Uneven terrain! GAH!" she kicked another tuft and her foot slipped out from under her on the wet ground. With a wordless grunt she spun like a cartoon and landed flat on her back in the mud.

Malcolm froze, not certain if she was unconscious and wondering if he should assist her.

"I swear, if you so much as smirk, I'm going to throw rocks at you," Andie promised breathlessly from her prone position on the ground.

Malcolm bit the inside of his lip as tears formed in the corner of his eyes. He drew a deep breath and pulled on reserves of self-control, moving to her side and kneeling on the ground. "Let me check your head for injuries," he managed to choke out.

She sat up and swatted his hands away. "Get off me! I'm a doctor. I'll do it." Nevertheless, she remained seated and let him look.

"My life is also in your hands now," Malcolm admonished gently, using the gentle reproof to banish his giggles. "I don't want you dropping from a concussion just because you're stubborn."

Malcolm's hands were gentle as he probed her scalp through the wet hair. He was happy to find there wasn't even a bump. He risked looking into her face and couldn't help the chuckle that flew out at her disgusted expression coupled with her flushed cheeks. He couldn't quite stifle the noise and earned a dark glare.

"Bastard," she grunted, playfully tossing a tuft of muddied grass at him.

"I can't help it," he giggled again. "You were just cursing the ground and then it…"

"…Came up and bit me on the ass," she finished with a smile that threatened to stretch out her own face. "You're s-still a j-jackass though." She was shivering now that she'd stopped shrieking.

"I'm sure that's t-true!" He choked back his laughter again. Deep shudders suddenly wracked his wet and weary body. "You were right though," he offered quietly, all traces of humor gone in an instant. "I shouldn't have given in to despair. I should have more f-faith in my comrades."

She looked him in the eye, trying to gauge his honesty.

"We can't go anywhere else tonight," Malcolm announced with a shiver. "We'll have to take shelter here and make our way back to c-camp in the morning. After we check in with T'Pol, we can begin searching for the captain." Rising to his feet, he offered her a hand. She scowled at it for a moment, as though it might be poisoned, but grabbed it in the end and allowed him to help her to her feet.

She tried brushing the dirt off her backside and only succeeded in smearing the mud around. Andie sighed heavily. "We need to get out of these w-wet things and find a way to k-keep warm." Survival seemed an enormous task, but they would have to manage. They didn't have any other choice.

Malcolm looked around at the small area surrounding them and tried to draw breath that didn't involve his teeth clacking together. There wasn't much to work with up here. They may not have much to look forward to tomorrow, especially if the captain and the chief engineer were discovered dead. He kept his dreary thoughts to himself; she'd carried him enough for one day. He didn't have to overload her with more troubles.

Andie squeezed her hands into tight balls, trying to bring feeling back to her numb extremities. There were a great many flaws in Reed's plan, not the least of which was how he intended for them to get off this precipice they were balanced on, but she didn't have the heart to point them out. At least his burst of temper seemed to be a good sign that his sensibilities were returning. She didn't think she could manage to keep calm if he'd been a gibbering idiot. But there was no telling how fragile his balance was. She had made the mistake once, long ago, of assuming that her companion was as fine as he claimed to be, and her faith in him had nearly put her in a permanent box. She wasn't certain how much she dared lean on the wiry man she was trapped with, so she needed to continue to be tough. She needed to be sturdy, just in case he wasn't resilient enough to survive in the wild.

Neither had any reason to believe the other was secretly working to alleviate their partner's possible shortcomings. They worked together as polite strangers, respectfully arguing over their best means of shelter. In the end, Malcolm broke off several branches from the sparse bushes growing around and lined them up next to a narrow fissure in the rock. He spread Andie's large cleric's cassock over them, creating a break from the wind and anchored the fabric down with loose stones. The rest of their soaking garments were used to line the walls inside the make-shift tent after they wrung out the worst of the water. Andie reached into that magic bag of hers and pulled out not one but two emergency thermal blankets, folded tightly into packs that were each no bigger than a fist. One was unfolded and spread on the ground, and the other would be used to wrap around them.

Andie also offered a plastic wrapped bag to Malcolm, containing one pair of slightly wrinkled, river-washed, mended medical scrubs. "They'll fit," she assured him. Too tired to worry about his modesty with the female nearby, he peeled off his wet clothes and put on the dry ones. She was right; the drawstring let out enough room to cover his hips even if they left his ankles bare and the shirt was snug but tolerable. His soiled, torn uniform was now dripping from one wall of their domicile, along with his socks and underthings.

"What about you?" he queried quietly. She was still too quiet for his comfort, but she shook her head and he took that to mean she didn't need anything from him. Her clothes covered the empty spaces and formed a doorway. Presently she was wearing nothing but the green tunic she'd been wearing since they arrived, including through the most recent water sports. "That's got to be as wet as anything else," he protested lamely. The wind bit through the thin fabric of the scrubs with sharp teeth and he shivered violently as he huddled between the two silvery blankets. He regretted that the storm had made the available wood too wet to burn, assuming they could have found matches or a tinderbox.

"_Bonine_ yak hair," she grunted as though that explained everything. His puzzled look indicated he needed further clarification. "My tunic is made from _Bonine_ yak hair and it was worth every credit I paid for it. Among other things, it has amazing quick-drying properties, making it the best wet weather gear on this or any planet," she informed him. "If you ever get a chance to buy something made out of _Bonine_ yak hair, you should take it. Hold still," she directed, pulling from its holster the one pistol they carried between them; her nearly depleted, alien mag pulse. The power cell whined pitifully to indicate it was struggling to build a charge.

"What the hell?" he yelped as she took aim near his head. He couldn't help but duck and cover his head as a bright beam of light warmed its way past his ear to connect with the rock face behind him. A similar bolt hit the small pile of rocks she'd lumped at the entrance, which served to hold some of their tent siding in place against the fading breeze that still threatened to blow their house down. Feeling foolish he dropped his arms and scowled at her. "I thought you said that was dead!"

"I said we'd probably only get one or two shots out of it," she corrected him, sliding under the blanket next to him after securing the door covering.

He would have protested further, but the stones seemed to retain the heat administered from the weapon and were giving off a temperature akin to warmth. It made the air balmy but it was better than nothing. "That's better than nothing," he muttered as he turned his back and drew the blanket over his shoulders. The thick cloak and layers of clothing kept most of the wind out of their make-shift abode and her thin body generated some heat as it pressed against his in a wool tunic that was indeed already dry. He was reminded of the elegance that was the three-room medical tent back at Starfleet Hollow and he wondered how much time she spent roughing it in her lifetime.

Andie turned her back to him and used her arm as a pillow. He'd insisted on sleeping with his face to the outside and she was tucked against his body facing the flat rock wall. Under the shared blanket, she could almost pass for snug.

Sleep should have been easy. They'd been awake for hours, engaged in extremely physical activities and the waning levels of adrenaline should have left them both weary but those forty winks were long in coming. There were too many questions and concerns about their friends and their shipmates and the state of the world they'd landed on and the mental balance of the partner they were each shackled with to relax fully.

"How come you never told me you were afraid of water?" Andie asked quietly.

"You never asked," he snorted. It appeared to be a serious question, so he tried for a more serious answer. "It's not something I advertise," he added stiffly. "And it's not the water I fear. It's the drowning." He shuddered, pulling the blanket further up over his shoulder.

Her voice was small. "Drowning's not so bad. It's a lot like going to sleep. Just one gulp for air and then you're surrounded by soft water." She pursed her lips. "Fire's a bad way to go. The heat sears you before it touches you. It burns off one layer of skin at a time and you're screaming with pain, wondering how many layers will burn off before you finally get to the end of the pain." She yawned. "Drowning's not so bad."

"You're terrible at bedtime stories," he mumbled. "Don't you ever get scared?" The question was wistful; hoping that she had chinks in her armor.

Andie thought about that for a while. "I don't like the dark," she finally admitted in a small voice. Speaking her fears out loud made her feel small and she waited for his snort of derision. There was no answer, except the steady respiration of her sleeping companion. Soon after she followed his example and drifted off.

* * *

_Reniasterre Prison_

_Day Five: Early_

Jonathan Archer stood at the window of his narrow cell and stared out the small square that looked out on nothing but darkness. The temperature had dropped and the damp air blew through the open hole, although metal bars sunk deep into the window casing stole away the hope of escaping. He considered huddling with his friend, who was still snoring away on the thin layer of dried grasses that served as bedding, but didn't want to risk waking the engineer. Their circumstances were still pretty bleak.

There had not been another interrogation, although there were a few more beatings. The plans had seemed to change when the rain had begun. The natives had damn near leaped out of their skin when the water dropped. The simple act of falling water had troubled them deeply. They had continued to behave nervously, jumping at the slightest sound and sneaking fearful looks at the sky. Archer and Tucker had been removed from the wheeled cart that carried them and tossed into this cell with haste; their attackers had not been back. Archer had time to appreciate the irony; after all that time he'd spent in camp and on board ship trying to find some peace and quiet, he'd finally found it here in prison.

He certainly had enough time to wonder what the hell he was doing. In the middle of the night, he'd just risen from his bed, put on his shoes and walked away from camp. There was no rhyme or reason; he'd just left. It hadn't even been a conscious decision to abandon his crew. He just walked out. Tucker hadn't asked many questions, and Reed had a habit of answering his own inquiries, and had in fact assumed the captain was attempting to make friends with the natives in order to solidify the safety of the ship on this foreign world. Archer hadn't said anything to challenge that assumption. It scared him, this ability to just commit a huge act without thinking it through.

And he'd dragged his friend into this without warning. Jon looked over his shoulder at his companion. Trip was still unconscious, suffering from a tremendous blow to the back of the head. There was the possibility of concussion but until his friend woke up, Jon couldn't make any useful evaluations. Hopefully the percussive snores that were exuding from the supposedly comatose man were a good sign. The cut on his chest had clotted; it wasn't deep. The strangers had removed the simple forearm brace though, and that had caused Trip some further grief. Through it all though he had stood staunchly at Jon's side and never asked for anything that Jon didn't offer.

It started with a walk that didn't end until dawn broke over the horizon. Everything dripped with the unusual red dust, which picked up the brightest fire of sunlight through the never-ending cloud cover, and turned the world into a gleaming bloodbath. He remembered shuddering; picturing in gruesome detail, each and every crewman who had ever been cut and bloodied under his watch during their recent exploits in the Expanse. Not a day had gone by that someone hadn't been seriously injured, and through it all he had maintained that stoic dignity that Starfleet tried to instill in all of its captains. People died around him and he did his duty. He'd done it again in recent days, in a time of alleged peace, too. He just stood by and acted calm while his ship was stripped from him by wild animals and he'd stood by while wild animals ravaged the pitiful camp he'd set up and he'd continue to stand by while the rest of those persons he'd swore to protect were stripped from him one by one by fate or fury.

Absently Jon rubbed his chest where the phase pistol had seared the skin when it discharged. Just like the other night, his lungs felt constricted and he had trouble drawing breath. For just one moment he wished that somebody else was in charge, that somebody else could be counted on to have the right answers. There was nobody else; there was only Jon and he was really just making it up as he went along. Like the emergency protocols that had basically been unused since their inception, he was just figuring out how to be the leader his people needed him to be. Sometimes there didn't seem to be any room for Jonathan Archer because there were so many people who needed him to be the captain.

Captains didn't get vacations. Not when augmented science projects came to life and attacked the Klingon home world in the name of Humanity, or when the Vulcans blew up the human embassy and tried to blame it on their disenfranchised idealists. There had been no time for rest when he'd been called in front of the entire Command Council and been forced to relive every terrible event in the Expanse, and justify it to someone else's standards. They'd been second-guessing him since he took the job, from the very moment he'd directed _Enterprise_ out of space dock four years ago! He'd trained for this his whole life and who were they to think that they knew better than him, even though most of the stuff he'd encountered since then had been far beyond anything he'd ever dreamed of.

For example, a snot ball that took over a cargo bay and the minds of several unlucky crewmen turned out to be just a life form trying to get home. _How was anyone supposed to prepare for that?_ or the way that his life long friend and mentor, the man he'd referred to as his second father, would come on board his ship under false pretenses and perform actions that would kill off that poor Ensign Burrows and never once consider that what he was doing was wrong? _Who could have guessed that?_ Emory had hoodwinked a whole lot of people at both Starfleet Command _and _Starfleet Medical and how was Archer supposed to know that old man better than anyone, _just because he'd sat at his table and played with his children and would always remember the way Emory had wept for Henry Archer at the funeral as he placed one heavy hand on Jon's shoulder?_ Jon was just one man, he didn't know everything! He couldn't help the mistakes he'd made in the past.

Maybe he'd been thinking that it had been such a long time since he made a decision without obsessively weighing the consequences. Just once he wanted to remember what it was like to perform an action that was clear and decisive. It had been a very long time since his mission was so black and white. So when his early morning walk through a world that looked like it was drenched in blood had brought to his attention a carriage trying to flee from a pair of horsemen, he had acted out of instinct. He'd charged in and scattered the pair of horsemen, and rescued the old man, but the carriage had been damaged and the attackers came back with greater numbers and even when Tucker and Reed had come barreling out of the trees like the cavalry, it hadn't changed the odds. They'd all been taken hostage. The old man had fled without them. And the horsemen had pummeled them pretty good.

He'd tried to put himself between his men and the attackers, taking on the brunt of the blows. He'd survived a beating before, a better one too, at the hands of a Reptilian. The pain felt good; it let him know he was still alive when nothing else seemed to do that. The Vulcans had warned him when they removed Surak's _katra_ that he might experience feelings of depression and unrest, but he hadn't felt anything then. He hadn't really felt anything in a long time. The events of war had changed him and he was becoming a different person. Lots of people shook his hand and called him hero and proclaimed they wanted to be just like him, but did he even want to be like himself?

Faced with the challenge of possibly failing his people he'd just gotten up in the night and walked away from everybody. He took Porthos for a walk, but he hadn't thought about returning. Jon hadn't been certain where he was going, but back to camp wasn't it. Archer had brought them to this cold and pain-filled world feeling like he was running on mental auto-pilot. He stared out at the darkness and wished it was possible for a captain to get a vacation. All he wanted to do was find some deserted beach and take a long nap in the sun.

Beside him Trip slept on in the dark and cold night.

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Five: Dawn:_

The storm was not raging. She held the storm in her mind. The winds were settling. The air was clearing. She was in command of the pacifying storm.

_Trip would probably be flying a kite and hooting like a wild man in a storm like this._

T'Pol sighed and began again. The storm was not raging. The winds were settling.

_Trip's shoulders were strong enough to keep the kite alit in the strong breeze._

This was getting ridiculous.

Humans often pronounced that the third time was charmed. Perhaps it also applied to the _thirty_-third time. T'Pol closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. There was no candle in her present quarters, but she could see a dancing flame on the inside of her eyelids. _Think of yourself on a turbulent ocean._ Her mind brought forth the familiar ritual and she let its familiarity wash over her like the flood in a shower, or perhaps like the rain that beat against the pod's hull. _The waves were subsiding._ She could feel the soothing words and pictures lull her into a deeper state of consciousness. The Vulcan ceased to feel the chill of the air. She ceased being aware of the dirt under her fingernails. She let herself drift away on the pre-dawn air.

Perhaps it was the rain that propelled the image in the back of her mind to dance like a leaf on the wind through her consciousness. It was a dream she had once, or rather, a nightmare. She was in the shower on _Enterprise_. Tucker was with her. Her feelings overwhelmed her and she attacked him. But that was just a hallucination brought on by the Trellium addiction. She wasn't on _Enterprise_ now.

But she could still see Commander Tucker.

He wasn't in the shower this time. He was filthy and smudged with blood. His uniform was torn. The engineer was lying on the ground. He was snoring slightly, causing the dry grasses on which he slept to rustle quietly underneath him.

"Trip?" She could hear her voice echo around the strange dream world. Whiteness obliterated all other images at the periphery of her vision, and the only color belonged to the sleeping man. He was black and blue and red all over. "Commander Tucker, are you injured?" She had to reach him, to learn something of his fate. Worry tied her intestines in knots at his stubborn slumber.

Relief washed over her when those big blue eyes struggled to open and looked directly at her with a slow grin. "Hey!" he slurred sleepily. "Did they get you too?" A frown line appeared between his eyebrows. His head turned as though somebody spoke to him from the side-lines.

"Where are you? Do you require assistance?" T'Pol tried to make her voice commanding. She tried to shake him out of his trance. Her toe tapped the white floor under her foot impatiently, but she was already losing the vision. The white world that divided her from Tucker dissipated into the quiet dark of the early morning hour. She was still inside her escape pod, kneeling on the floor beside her bunk. Commander Tucker had not rejoined the ranks and the world was still not at rest.

Another sharp rap indicated that they knocking sound she'd heard in her vision was actually real. Further attempts to rejoin her meditative state would have to be pushed aside. Exhaling sharply in annoyance, T'Pol answered the intruder with a brisk bark, wishing she could just close her eyes and fall back into the trance where she could see that Tucker was not dead but alive and smiling, even if he was in serious need of a good scrubbing.

Ensign Sato stepped tentatively inside. Porthos wiggled in between her legs and lay down with his head on his paws, staring at T'Pol reproachfully. The bleak red sunlight beat down strongly outside. T'Pol realized she'd been meditating far longer than she'd intended.

"The roll call is complete," Hoshi began. She licked her lips nervously. "Dr. Andie is missing. So are Sergeant Mackenzie and Corporal Woods. The crew noticed and there's been some speculation about what…"

"They are not missing," T'Pol interrupted "They are on assignment."

"Assignment?" Hoshi repeated dubiously. It was unusual for the Vulcan to disrupt a sentence like that and it surprised the ensign. Upon closer inspection, she could make out dark shadows under the aliens' eyes. The first officer had not been sleeping well, if at all. It shouldn't cause concern; Vulcan's needed less sleep than humans, but T'Pol had also missed breakfast and the morning assembly. It was with great concern that Hoshi had dared to intrude on the XO.

"They are on assignment," T'Pol repeated, pinning her gaze on the nervous Ensign. "Is there a problem?" The Vulcan considered that her behavior this morning was irregular; perhaps other crewmen had expressed concern as well. There was something disgusting about how readily these soft humans expected the worst to happen and expected someone else to make it better. She did not speak of her brief irritation, putting her irascibility down to a sleepless night and an interrupted trance.

"No, not a problem," Hoshi demurred. She stepped further inside and closed the door behind her. "It's just that six members of our crew have now slipped out under cover of darkness and nobody seems to know where they are, and Crewman Rostov thinks that spotlight may have been sabotaged and that maybe our camp is being watched...and…well, there's just a sense of uneasiness going around."

"I see," intoned T'Pol. _The humans were definitely weak_, she decided with a frown. Commander Tucker would know how to tell some tale about sky diving or skinny dipping or some other ill-advised hobby and all these people would go back to their regular duties without a second thought. She suspected it was a prejudice against Vulcans in general that had all the Earthlings in such an agitated state. For some reason this morning, that assumption irked her.

Hoshi went on nervously as T'Pol remained less than gregarious; not that she was typically expansive. "You usually oversee the role call, but you weren't out there this morning, and after you had retired so early last night and since nobody's seen the other senior officers or know anything about anything…except Lieutenants Hess and Truax, who keep disappearing over that hill and won't say anything about what they are working on…well, I just wanted to know if maybe you'd like to address the crew and set their minds at ease by telling them what's going on. Maybe saying something would be better than saying nothing." Hoshi, never out of the right string of words, rambled her way through a thicket of sentences until she ran out of things to say in any coherent form and so she fell silent.

"I see," T'Pol intoned again. "Tell them everything is fine. Tell them the captain is still in command of this expedition and that plans for rescue are being considered. A Vulcan crew would be handling this circumstance as a problem to be solved. Tell them to stop gossiping idly and to make themselves useful by making additions or upgrades to our campsite if they long for intellectual stimulation." She sounded peeved.

Ensign Sato's eyebrows hit the ceiling. "I'll tell them that everything's fine," she nodded hastily, backing out and tugging on the beagle's leash to remove him from the Vulcan.

T'Pol leaned back and exhaled deeply. She hadn't handled that as diplomatically as she could have, she decided. It was difficult to concentrate on anything the linguist was saying as all T'Pol wanted to do was slip back into her white world and reach out to Commander Tucker. The ship required its captain, she amended. The crew required comforting. Drawing a very deep breath, T'Pol tried to close her eyes and regain her place in her dream state. Underneath it all she knew she was reacting badly. She couldn't concentrate. She was irritable. This was more than just the fallout from her Trellium addiction. If Trip were here, he'd refer to her as Miss Crankypants and he would not be wrong.

There was no time to worry about her own issues right now; she had to find the captain. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. _She was in the midst of a turbulent ocean. The winds were subsiding. The water was growing still._

* * *

_Middle of Nowhere:_

_Day Five: Dawn_.

_Drowning's not so bad. It's a lot like going to sleep. Just one gulp for air and that's it._ The memory surfaced unbidden.

_He was cloaked in darkness. He found the room he sought, but it was empty. There was a moment when he realized that it was a trap, but it was too late. They were upon him. He was tied to a table, like an insect specimen spread out on a white square card that his father kept in his study. He was freezing, but parts of his body were on fire with pain. His knee screamed in agony. His left hand wept blood. That dark figure came closer and he instinctively tried to move away, but he was trapped. "You didn't come here alone. Where are your friends? Don't worry; you'll talk to us. You'll tell us everything we want to know." That horrible voice was both a hiss and a whisper; echoing through this torture chamber. He opened his mouth to tell her that he would never talk, when his head was forced back. A bucket full of water was poured over his face and he could not stop the silent scream inside his head. Even as his nose and mouth were filled he tried to keep panic at bay, tried to hold his breath, tried to stay alive, but panic stole away his hope that he would ever draw breath again as his lungs began to burn. The urge to flee was strong, but he was tied down. He could feel her wretched hand on his abdomen. He was choking! He couldn't breathe!_

In a make-shift tent on a foreign hillside, Malcolm inhaled sharply and lay still, waiting for the monsters to reach out of the past and drag him back into the dark. But there was no past and there were no monsters; only the ruddy light of day to greet him on the cold alien world. The walls were made of rock but they were tinged with red rather than gray. The air was cold, but it was fresh air, not the musty scent of decay and rot. It had just been a dream. Malcolm waited for his pulse to fall back into a steady rhythm and kept his eyes open, directing his thoughts away from the nauseating memory.

Through a crack in the cloth siding, Malcolm could see a dark figure kneeling on the edge of the precipice. He was in a tent on the edge of the world. That damned woman had saved his life. His dark past was far behind him. The breath he drew was much more relaxed at that thought.

After such an awful night, the morning was rather calm. The temperature had risen; although he could still see the air exit his mouth in a misty vapor, it didn't feel like the wind was tearing at him like a wild animal. The ground glistened with the remnants of rain, but it didn't feel like the downpours would repeat themselves any time soon. Reed shoved his bare feet into his boots, grimacing at the soggy feel against his blistered feet, and slipped out of the abode. Stretching his arms above his head, he could feel muscles protesting the movement by sending sharp pains running through every nerve ending. Trudging over to his partner in crime, he noticed she had her survival kit opened and was apparently cataloging its contents. Several silver boxes and a few other odds and ends were spread out in front of her as she dug into the bottom of the satchel.

"Good morning," he greeted her easily. "I don't suppose you have a dry pair of boots in there?"

"Hey!" she acknowledged with practiced casualness. "There's something down here," she grumbled as her hand continued to root around in the bottom of her bag. "You sleep all right?" Confessing that she'd heard him groan in his slumber seemed an invasion of privacy; she never liked it when people mentioned her own troubled sleep to her.

"I slept quite well, thank you," he replied courteously. "Have you contacted the steward about breakfast?" he joked. The bleak thought that he might have missed his opportunity to rescue his friends was never far from his mind.

"In a manner of speaking," she answered, gesturing with her chin to something that rested at the edge of her piles of stuff.

Closer inspection showed it to be some small, furry, dead thing. "That's breakfast?" he queried while trying not to cringe.

"Yeah," she sighed. "I'm out of ration packs, I'm afraid. I found it drowned at the edge of the rising waters. Aha!" Triumphantly she pulled her fingers from the small tear in the bottom of her kit and displayed a familiar foil packet.

"You have a packet of tea?" he inquired, suddenly very interested.

"Yeah!" she said with surprise, perking up at the find. "Oh," she handed him the packet despondently. "It's only chamomile. It might make a good herb rub for your..." studied the rodent, "...mountain rat."

"It's too big to be a rat," Malcolm argued. "Although it's definitely a rodent of some kind."

"So you're making Chamomile Rodent?" Andie forced a smile. "Sounds tasty."

"We could use that chamomile to drink," Malcolm pointed out.

"Hell, no!" she vehemently denied. "It's _chamomile_! I would rather die than drink that nasty weed packet! Look, the branches we used for our tent ought to be dry enough to burn. See if you can get a fire going. I'm going to fetch some water." She picked up a flat disc from the pile and pushed down on the center. The sides rose, creating a small pot which she took with her back to the hole in the ground that led to the aqueduct.

Malcolm watched her go with some trepidation. Although the life-threatening situations and the following shouting match had done wonders for his sense of well-being, Andie's perkiness this morning seemed off. She wasn't a morning person. She loathed days that did not begin with coffee. But there she was energetically charging through camp, arranging breakfast and fetching water. He thought he might prefer it if she seemed a little less...glib.

If he only knew what she was thinking about him, he might have been grateful for glib.

He occupied himself by bringing over the branches and arranging them carefully in a small hole he fenced with rocks to keep the fire contained. In her piles of doodads, he found a small tubule that heated at one end; he recognized it as a surgical cauterizer, and found it quite useful in setting wood afire. When he heard her return he made the mistake of lifting his head and got an eyeful of naked flesh.

"You've seen boobs before, right?" Andie inquired nonchalantly, keeping her bare back toward the stunned armory officer as she pulled on the black shirt and pants that constituted her clothing. In seconds she was dressed and returned to the fire pit to sit next to Reed and pull on her socks and boots without a care in the world. "Haven't you cleaned that thing yet?" she nodded at the rodent. "You might need this." She offered the Klingon blade, handle first.

Reed had trouble forming words. Mortified, he could barely bring himself to look at her, although it didn't seem to faze her at all to be naked in front of a stranger. _Unless she just saw him as some sexless eunuch_, his inner voice suggested. He took the heavy knife and set about cutting away the fur on the sodden creature and not looking at his companion. He jammed a stick through the meat and propped it over the fire. With a reluctant sigh he braised the skin with the contents of the tea bag, telling himself that chamomile was not a proper breakfast beverage anyway.

Andie leaned forward to place a small tablet between two rocks and crushed them together. She dumped the brown powder that was created in the collapsible bowl and nestled it in the embers of the fire to heat.

Reed tried not to picture the lean muscles her back rippling with the motion. Closing his eyes he cursed quietly under his breath.

Not quietly enough, it would seem.

"Problem?" Andie inquired, looking at him with concern.

"No," he refuted through gritted teeth.

"You're flushed. Are you feverish?" She reached out to feel his forehead.

He needed to change the subject. _Any old subject would do, just distract her before she touched him while he was picturing her naked!_ "You have some nasty bruises on your back," he struggled to sound normal. "They must hurt."

Andie froze. "They're not bad," she shrugged indolently. "I've had worse."

"I'm sorry," Malcolm apologized quietly. "You must have acquired some of those trying to keep us safe last night."

Her brows drew together in a frown. "You're not the man I thought you were, Reed," she murmured. Malcolm didn't have time to be flattered or curious. "You peeked!"

His jaw fell open. "I did not peek!" he protested. "Besides you were hardly discreet!"

"Still I expected you to have all this self-control and there you are..._peeking_." Her eyes twinkled.

"You are a piece of work," he fumed, feeling shame for glancing at the wrong moment.

"You've got a couple of nasty ones yourself," Andie added, pulling her bowl from the fire and blowing on it. "You gonna live?"

Lips thinned and nostrils flared. "When did you get a chance to peek?" Malcolm demanded.

"I Did Not Peek!" she sounded aghast.

"You know about my bruises. Of course you looked." Reed shrugged one shoulder modestly. "I understand. You couldn't help yourself."

"I did not peek!" she protested. "I'm a doctor. I performed a cursory visual examination to determine the extent of your physical injuries."

"How is that not peeking?" he inquired cheekily.

"Peeking is dirty," she informed him primly. "I'm a doctor. I'm supposed to make certain you are in top physical condition. Which you are," she added. "Top. Physical. Condition."

All of a sudden Malcolm stopped laughing and flushed dark red. "Um, thanks," he stammered.

"You're on fire," she told him with a purr.

"That's taking it a bit far," he blushed with pride.

"No, really," Andie said again, this time with less purring. "You're on fire. I usually like my Chamomile Rodent a little less _en fuego_." She pointed to his stick on which speared bits of rodent were currently smoldering away, giggling when he cursed with irritation and fumbled the rescue of their breakfast, nearly dropping the meat into the fire.

As he stretched out to rescue their breakfast, the scrubs he still wore parted company, baring the small of his back as the shirt rode higher and the pants just a little lower. Andie stopped giggling and concentrated on stirring her bowl of liquid and not looking at his skin. She'd been having that dream this morning; the one where she was a child and lost in the mine and somebody was trying to grab her from the dark. She kept running around, crying and looking for her father, wishing he would arrive to sweep her up in his arms and tell her she was safe. In the dream, he never did.

Not until this morning, at any rate. Only the face that belonged to the arms that swept her up had no features; they were hidden in shadows. And when she woke up, she was entwined in the arms of the armory officer. Obviously she'd rolled over in her sleep and sought out the warmth of the nearest living person, and it was evident how that fact had slipped into her nightmare, but it didn't leave her any comfort. Nobody ever showed up to save her! She'd always had to save herself. It probably indicated something she considered horrific about her state of mind that she would dream about needing someone else to take care of her.

This morning she vowed that she would do everything she could to take care of Malcolm Reed. He was her charge now and she was determined to see that he was well taken care of. She didn't want him to feel again the panic he had felt yesterday, so similar to the terror she had experienced as a child in that mine. She could start by lifting his spirits, and so far, she'd been doing a fantastic job. That cold knot of dread that threatened to choke her with fear had been pushed far away, down into the dark depths where it couldn't touch her. She had nothing to be afraid of; she had to be the strong one.

Though that didn't include being the first to partake of strange alien rodent doused in a weedy substance she wouldn't even strain water through to drink! Malcolm looked at Andie who looked back at Malcolm. "You're the tactical officer," she pointed out.

"Ladies first," he gallantly offered.

"I'm no lady," she reminded him. "I'm a doctor."

"How could I forget?" he muttered. Taking a deep breath, he picked up a pinch of Chamomile Rodent and put it in his mouth, cringing before he'd even tasted it. It was earthy and had a metallic aftertaste, but mostly...."Tastes like chicken," he decided. He swallowed hard before accepting the collapsible bowl of broth that Andie offered. "What is this?"

"It's a protein tablet," she explained. "It's got all the vitamins and nutrients you'll need for at least two days in one tasty beverage." She watched him drink it and managed to hide her grin until he swallowed.

He regretted that even more than the Rodent. "It's salty," he choked out. "It's also a bit gritty, not unlike drinking sand."

Andie feigned outrage. "My dad invented that protein tablet!"

"Sorry," he apologized quickly, missing her smile. "Would you care for some?" he courteously offered the cup.

"Hell no!" she refused with a grin. "I was raised on protein tablets. If I never eat another, it'll be too soon. They're salty and gritty, you know. Blech," she shuddered.

"You were raised on these?" Malcolm snorted. "But you grew so tall!"

She snatched the cup back and sipped it herself. "It is a bit stale," she agreed. "But the taste hasn't suffered."

"No, it's just us that suffer," Malcolm muttered. He chewed on his breakfast and watched her out of the corner of his eye. She continued to be exuberantly gleeful and it made him distinctly uncomfortable. She didn't seem to notice his attentions.

After they dined, Malcolm dressed in his uniform while she packed away their meager belongings. The medical supplies were catalogued and secured in their silver cases and replaced in the survival kit. The thermal blankets were packed too. An assortment of odds and ends followed: a few glow rods, a small broken mirror, the sodden paper tablet and the soggy pen that no longer wrote with ink but left muddy marks and the sealed box that contained the Protein Pellets which were unmercifully untouched by flood. The fire was stamped out and Andie offered a hypo-spray to Malcolm, who gratefully accepted the mix of painkiller, anti-biotic and vitamins that she offered. He noted that the hypo-spray itself was not the standard kind employed by Starfleet, but the smaller, blue version that was used by UESPA. He didn't comment on it out loud however.

Once they were prepared to move, Reed led the way to the raised hump of rock under which they had sought shelter. Both man and woman repressed a groan as overused muscles screamed in protest as they once again began climbing a sheet of rock. To the best of his abilities, he hoped that this was the direction that would lead them closer to home and not further into an unknown wilderness with this fragile yet sturdy young woman.

* * *

_Prison_

_Day Five: Dawn_

Trip opened his eyes and could see only whiteness. An image loomed out of the dark. It was T'Pol. She looked fuzzy around the edges. "How'd you get in here?" he wondered out loud. It looked like she was trying to talk to him, but he couldn't hear what she said.

"I got thrown in here the same time as you," a male voice answered.

Trip blinked and the whiteness went away, as did the picture of T'Pol. Captain Archer stood beside his bed, staring into his eyes. "Captain? Where the hell are we?" the engineer grunted. His head was pounding like a set of snare drums.

"We're in prison," Jon answered. "Do you suppose Starfleet will give me some sort of prize for the being the captain most often incarcerated?"

It hurt to grin, but Trip tried anyway. It came out looking like a grimace. A heavy door sounded down the hall. "Is that our welcoming committee?" he wondered heavily.

"Not really," Archer answered shortly, standing to face what was coming.

Theirs was not the only cell in this narrow room. There were other cages, most of which were empty. When the heavy door at the end opened, a pair of strong men pulled a heavy crate through the aisle and stopped before one of the other iron doors. They poked a sharp stick inside the box they brought and something got out and entered its new prison with a snarl. It was a large, spine-riddled, thick-clawed, slavering creature that slunk forward with a familiar growl.

The guards hastened to close the outer door, locking the creature that looked like the animal that had stormed into Starfleet Hollow a few nights ago into an identical cell. Looking around, Trip recognized a similar creature in an enclosure to his right and quickly skirted away from the edge of his cell to put more distance between him and it. He counted quickly: there were six cells and at the moment three of them were occupied.

The guards chuckled hoarsely as they took the wheeled crate and headed out again. "Meet your new little friends!"

"I think we're going to have even more company," Archer answered Trip's unspoken question.

Trip considered the ramifications of this. "Oh, this inn't good," he murmured, sitting up and ignoring his headache. This was bad, but it looked like it was about to get worse.

* * *

_Castle:_

_Day Five: Dawn_

Captain Roland of the Royal Guard sat beside the bed of the wounded man. His hands were clasped together and his head bowed. Although he had not spoken with the Ancient Ones in some time, this seemed a good time to begin.

He'd never believed in prophecy, but the things he'd seen recently were hard to refute. Leaning back he picked up the metal cylinder he'd been given and studied it intensely. Should he take the lady at her word, or should he simply toss the artifact into the river and forget about it? She was a thief; he could hardly trust her. Although nothing had been stolen, that he could see, so perhaps her purpose here was more mysterious.

There was a soft rap on the door and a hooded cleric begged entrance. Roland waved him in with an impatient gesture.

The cleric's hands were folded over the leather bound book. "I apologize for my delay in returning to the side of our liege," he uttered coarsely. "I was seeking out roots to soothe the king's pains, and have only just returned on foot."

"It is of no consequence, Good Father," Roland nodded obligingly. "You could have done no more had you been at His Majesty's side."

"The hour grows late and early again, my lord," the cleric went on. "Perhaps you should prepare yourself for the burial rituals that are to come. His Majesty dies without an heir, and there will be many that seek to take his place."

Roland looked the cleric directly in the eye. "You are misinformed, Father Baldric. King Galen is not dead."

Baldric's eyes widened and he swiped a rough hand over his balding head. "What do you mean he is not dead? I was told he was at the precipice!"

The captain looked down at the man resting peacefully for the first time in many hours. "It would seem his fever is passing. His trembling subsides and he grows stronger by the hour." Roland fondled the silver cylinder in his hand, although he kept the item from the gaze of the holy man.

Baldric jerked his attention away from the sleeping King. "Praise the Ancient Ones," he stated by rote, although the prayer was forced out through gritted teeth. "They have reached out a hand and proclaimed his revival."

"Good Father, I wish to see the scrolls regarding the Remaking," the guardian went on. "There is something strange at work and we must keep our eyes open for the moment foretold."

The balding man unclenched his jaw with effort. "As you wish, my lord. I'll have the scrolls brought to you right away." His bow was jerky and not as smooth as it had been when he entered. Something had gone wrong and he was pretty certain he knew where the trouble lay.

He should have killed those intruders in the forest when he'd had the chance.


	13. Chapter 13

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 13

* * *

_Middle of Nowhere:_

_Day Five: Morning_

It was the humming that drove him batty. She seemed to be humming the same four bars of music over and over again, and it was driving him crazy. It didn't help that he didn't recognize the tune, or that he was beginning to hum parts of it under his breath; she was just making too much noise.

Something had changed in the night, although Malcolm couldn't quite put his finger on it. Andie remained ever more irritating than before. That pleasant teasing smile remained plastered to her face but she seemed to be very far away. He jumped the short distance to the ground and the soft earth billowed up in a little mushroom cloud when he landed. In spite of the rain the night before, the world had dried up quickly and the dryness caused his throat to close up, leaving him wishing for a canteen of water. _Bottled up_, he thought. That's what she reminded him of; a tightly closed container. Ever since her rather surprising admission that she hated living on the ground, she'd been politely distant. It was driving him crazy. Or maybe it was just the humming.

It may have done him good to know that Dr. Andie was just as puzzled by him as he was by her. Men were such fragile creatures; they fell apart when the world didn't work out they way that they planned. But waiting for Reed to realize that he was falling apart was like waiting at ground zero for the bomb to drop. She wondered if there would be an indication that he had reached his breaking point or if it would come so quickly there would be no warning.

"Would you cut that out?" Malcolm snapped without warning.

"What?" Andie stopped cold and looked wary.

"That god awful humming!" he pointed out. _She was doing it on purpose, trying to make him lose his mind!_

"I'm humming?" she repeated in confusion. _What was she humming?_ She tried to remember.

"Yes! You're humming!" he asserted. "If you have to hum, could you at least select a tune with which I'm familiar?"

Andie looked at him soberly. "I'll stop humming." She took care to avoid him when she passed him on the trail and continued walking.

The peace that followed only proved how noisy she was because the silence was deafening.

Feeling guilty for snapping at her over something that was probably keeping her calm, Reed was half-relieved when she finally broke the quiet to announce during one of their brief rests, that the first thing she was going to do when they got back on board _Enterprise_ was to change into dry socks. Then she had added that the first thing she would do was find the longest string of dental floss. Then she added a solid hair-brushing to the list of firsts.

She was currently working on number forty-two.

"Coffee. I'm definitely going to drink an entire pot of coffee," she huffed, taking an extra step to catch up to his slightly longer stride.

"You already said coffee," Malcolm retorted with irritation.

"Well I'm going to drink a lot of it so it warrants repeating," Andie snapped back. "Fine! A long shot of well-aged whiskey! That's what I'm going to do first!"

There was no conceivable way she could get to all forty-two things _first_! He was clenching his teeth to prevent another argument like the one that had ended their outing yesterday, or rather early this morning. He was not going to say a word if it kept her following him obediently through the woods. Even if her list _was_ ridiculous, he muttered to himself.

"Oranges!"

That was forty-_three_. Malcolm clenched his teeth harder.

"I'm going to pull back the peel and suck the sweet right out of the first fat juicy orange I find!" she declared happily. "I'm going to...smoke."

"Smoking isn't allowed on the ship!" Malcolm couldn't take it anymore. He had to speak up.

"No, ahead there." She pointed into the distance. "Is that smoke?"

He followed the path of her pointing finger and nearly dropped from relief. Smoke meant civilization which meant that she would stop with her ridiculous list!

Instantly he dropped into a crouch and indicated that she should follow him. Hugging the ground to avoid detection, he crept a few feet then turned around to see if she was following him. She was right beside him, hunkered down in the sparse grasses up here and speaking in a low tone of voice.

"Can you see a campfire?"

"It's more than a campfire," he answered quietly, wishing for a pair of binoculars. "It looks like a village filled with fireplaces." With one hand he directed her to follow him quietly as they slunk ahead to get a better glimpse.

There was a small community, comprised of thatched huts surrounding a green. On the other side of the quaint village, and slightly further down the slope in the opposite direction from the Hollow was something else. It looked like a tall fence made from entire logs, boasting sharp points at the top.

"Reed?"

"What?"

"I'm picking up life signs."

The medical scanner she held in her hand was smaller than Starfleet issue. He didn't have to look closely to guess that it came to their hands compliments of UESPA. "I'm not surprised you're picking up life signs. That's quite a populated village down there."

"No, I mean I'm picking up human life signs." Her tone was exasperated. She poked a few buttons on the machine. "Two of them, I think." She squinted closer at the readout. "Machine says they're male...and one of them...is comprised almost entirely of ego! Seriously, his head is enormous!" Eyes opened wide, she looked at Reed and waited for his outburst with barely suppressed impishness.

Reed rolled his eyes in her direction and glared.

"Well, you'd better make your rescue plan extra big to accommodate that cranium." That irrepressible grin was back, just daring him to lecture her about her disregard for the captain. He clenched his jaw again and felt the pulse beat steadier in his temple with the restrained impulse to grumble at her as he rolled his head back around to take another look at that quaint little village.

No matter how much fun she was having teasing and tormenting him and sassing her superior didn't matter. They had accomplished the impossible. They had found the captain.

* * *

_Village Arena_

_Day Five: Mid-morning._

"You know, when I said I wanted room service this is not what I had in mind!" Trip shouted to be heard over the noises of the crowd. They were throwing old produce at the pair being led into the circle and booing loudly.

Archer tried to keep his eye on everything at once. He may have walked out on his command, but he had no such intention of leaving his friend to suffer for his loyalty. The open air window in their cell had let in all the chill of the morning and his extremities were numb. His chest hurt, too, but he didn't want to think about that at the moment. They were being herded into a dirt circle. The close-packed logs raised high above them in an impenetrable fence. In spite of the unlikelihood of escape, their hands were bound with coarse rope before them.

Sagging faces lined the barrier looking down at them with dark expressions, each as rugged and drab as the entire world around them. The only color that trembled into their earthen world came from a silken canopy that was being whipped in the wind on one side of the viewing platform.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Watchtower, honored guests and peasants who serve her ladyship, the Imminent Queen; give me your attention!" A voice commanded the hordes to silence. It came from a solid looking man wearing a tunic of chain mail, who stood at the side of the honored guest inside the richly appointed tent.

All eyes turned to a lovely woman who sat under pavilion wearing clothes that must have cost more than all the dirt-rubbed citizens in coarse garb that surrounded her. Unlike the mostly droopy faces of the citizens that crowded close the Imminent Queen had recognizable features and long dark hair piled on top of her head. "The Chosen One has been assaulted!" the herald went on. "These men attacked her Ladyship on the road and attempted to remove from Her the Blessed Charge that is her keeping!"

The crowd booed and hissed.

"These men were not successful in their attempt!" The beautiful woman stood and spoke and all fell silent to hear her words. "I looked into my future glass and saw that they came! They will be dealt with according to the laws of the Watchtower and the Time Before. They are masters of earth and to earth they will be returned!"

The crowd shouted and raised fists.

"Time before what?" Trip muttered, choking on the dust in his throat.

"Hush, Trip," Archer cautioned, straining to hear what would become their fate.

"Bring in the Keepers!" The Queen directed. "All hail the Ktirya's once more!"

Members of the audience gasped and the world fell surprisingly silent as two iron grates were lifted in the walls of the earthen pit where Archer and Tucker stood. Out of the darkness leaped two snarling animals. Their forms were familiar to the humans since one such animal had leaped into Starfleet Hollow just a few days ago. Each frothing creature wore a thick collar with a ring in it through which was threaded a chain. One guard stood in each portal, playing out lengths of chain for the animals to maneuver and one guard followed each of the giant creatures into the ring and prodded with a sharp tipped spear, inciting them to rage.

"Oh, boy," Archer muttered. He moved closer to the engineer, hoping that they would be able to work together to defeat these creatures and the guards before finding a way out of here, but it was not to be. The larger of the animals leaped forward, prodded by the guard at his backside. Saliva dripped from his muzzle, and its bristling hide landed directly between them. Tucker ran one direction and Archer backed away in the other. The smaller animal followed the captain's movement from a crouch, while Tucker faced down the larger attacker.

This was not going to end well.

* * *

_Arena:_

_Day Five: Mid-morning_

There wasn't much of a plan to be had. They had no weapons and no back-up; they didn't even know what they were up against. But Reed decided they needed a closer look and Andie nodded silently. She stopped long enough to pull the filthy cleric's cassock from her pack and pull it around her, hiding her slender form in the wide folds. A jerk of her head indicated that he should follow behind, and they entered the village commons. He barely saw her arm swing before she'd pulled a short tunic off a laundry line and tossed it back at him. She had fast hands; he'd have to remember that.

As simple as their disguises were, they were enough to get them inside the crowd and through the entrance to the arena. There were rough hewn steps on either side and Andie veered left, leading him up into quickly formed platforms that overlooked the steep ring in the center. She picked a path through the unwashed masses as he squinted around in the close and fetid air, trying to see what was happening. He saw it. Rather, he saw _them_, his companions inside the ring, being stalked by two of those awful barbarian creatures that had attacked camp. He heard the herald call for their demise.

Reed turned his head to find Andie and discovered she was several steps ahead of him. Pushing her way gently through the people crowded close on the narrow platform that surrounded the pit, she moved closer to the purple canopy and the lady in charge. When she was just a few steps away from the elegant lady, who was concentrating on the spectacle down below and trying not to look too eager, she was noticed by a guard.

The sentry proceeded up the aisle to confront her, and Andie jerked upright. Immediately she smiled and pointed to his pants. "Your fly's open," she said helpfully.

Not knowing what a fly was, the guard found himself automatically looking where the finger pointed. He regretted it immediately for Andie's foot connected with the very spot she had pointed to causing him to fold over at the waist and pray silently that he would still bear children even as he gasped futilely. With his attention diverted nearly silently, she grasped the back of his tunic and dragged it over his head, incapacitating his arms as she slipped a sharp dagger from his belt. She would have dragged the sword too, but it was tangled in his tunic.

Malcolm was right behind her. "Duck!" It seemed that a simple plan was just too much to ask for.

Andie heard him and dropped to her knees. A second guard had come looking for the first. In lieu of a traditional weapon, Reed grabbed an urn held by a coarse-looking woman and her cloaked companion and threw the jug at the guard's face where the pottery crumbled. The guard screamed louder than he had any right to and dropped his weapon to claw at his face. Andie was happy to retrieve the battle-axe he carried as it fell and push it backward to Reed. She rose to knee the first guard directly in the nose as he finally pushed his tunic back and tried to stand, and he regretted his actions greatly as he clutched at his bloody face.

The crowd was beginning to pay attention. More guards were coming toward Reed from the far side of the tent. To slow them down, he swung the axe at the slender poles that held the soft purple canopy in the breeze. Two quick cuts brought the filmy fabric down and wrapped both men and the elegant lady in one silken net of embroidery.

Andie glanced at the second guard's face, which was turning purple and swelling, but it didn't stop him from starting toward Reed, who was busy swinging his axe at the tent. Hampered by her garment, Andie swung the clergy robe off her shoulder and around in circles in the air like a bull fighter tempting the main attraction. The swollen-faced guard charged and she swept the large robes around the guard and spun his body as in a game of Blind Man's Bluff until he tripped over the first guard and both men tumbled to the ground. Andie tucked the dagger she'd stolen into her belt then took a running leap at the barriers around the pit. Without hesitation she flew over the barrier and disappeared into the fighting ring below just as Reed turned around to instruct Andie but found to his frustration that she was already gone. He cursed her impulsiveness but had no alternatives but to follow, slipping over the edge feet first with the battle axe held carefully in his hands.

As soon as her body hit the ground, Andie tucked and rolled to her feet allowing her momentum to propel her forward. She passed a surprised looking Archer by and threw herself at Tucker, knocking him out of the way just as the large creature pounced. They hit the dirt and she pulled the dagger she'd purloined from her belt. With quick movements, she slipped the knife between the ropes that bound his wrists and cut him free.

"You're still here? Boys are useless!" She grinned and tossed him a wink. The guard who'd been poking the _ktirya_ stepped up behind her and swung the blunt end of his lance, knocking her to the side and directly into the oncoming path of the leathery beast. She had time for one last word before she was buried under an avalanche of sinew and spines. "Androcles?"

"Andie!" Tucker shouted as he watched her disappear. He protected his aching forearm by doubling his fists together and struck the man who had shoved the woman. He used his legs and kicked the guard and the man fell over unconscious.

On the other side of the ring, Malcolm landed on his feet with the battle-axe in his hand directly in between the maddened animal and the captain. One sharp blow and Archer's bindings were broken apart. The curved blade of the axe also extended out the back in a sharp slender point. Flipping the axe around, Reed turned on the wild animal and planted the pointed end into the hard-packed earth directly through one of the links in the chain that held the voracious creature. It pinned her to one spot and kept her out of harm's way.

"Good morning, sir," Malcolm greeted his superior politely. "We're here to rescue you."

"How's that working out?" Archer chuckled tiredly.

"About the same as usual, sir," Malcolm retorted, sensing movement and turning to inspect the rest of the area.

"That's not good at all, is it?" Archer snorted.

Greetings with the captain were short-lived as Tucker's anguished cry snapped Malcolm's head back to the other pair just in time to see the reckless woman disappear under the considerable weight of the carnivorous predator.

For the second time since he'd begun this journey she just disappeared from view, falling to a certain death. Malcolm froze in place. His chest was pounding and he couldn't breathe. She was just gone!

The large creature seemed to be enjoying his feast, tossing his head and wiggling his hindquarters. The guard who held his chain struggled to control the line but the _ktirya_ fought against its bonds and nearly dragged him off his feet. Clawing at his neck with his sharp talons, the animal jerked suddenly and threw back his head, offering what looked like a triumphant grin. From this angle, Archer and Reed could see the tell-tale signs of filthy sutures on its hindquarters.

The enormous and angry animal threw back his head and roared before shaking his head and tossing the remaining pieces of his leather collar to the ground.

Onlookers screamed and started running away. The animal was loose. And it was mad as hell. His angry roar shook the dirt pit and the wooden fence around it. In seconds he had turned on the man still trying to manhandle his chain, and the man hastened to drop the chain and secure himself on the other side of the iron gate.

Left in the dirt amid the leather pieces was the prone figure of the female. Tucker forced himself to move forward, wondering how he could render aid without a med-kit. Andie's fingers curled into the crumbly dirt and she exhaled heavily as he hit his knees beside her.

"Andie!" Trip exhaled with relief. "What the...? How did...? Whuh?" He stammered. He gathered his thoughts. "You released a wild animal! Does that seem wise to you?"

"Metal chain; leather collar," she panted, pointing at the cat that was busy with the terrified guard. "We've met. I guess Androcles figured he owed me a favor." She glanced up at a particularly loud shriek. "We should go," she urged soberly. "He's kind of pissed off."

Trip helped her to her feet as best he could and they backed away from the enraged wild animal, which may have forfeited the opportunity to snack on a doctor, but was intent on making no such exception to the male figures that had kept him in so much pain. The guard who'd locked the gate behind him fled through the underground tunnel as Androcles continued to paw through the holes in an attempt to lure him back.

Across the pit, Malcolm stared at the unharmed woman in speechless relief. He could not believe his eyes. He'd lost her. She was gone. But here she was without a single scratch on her. His knees hadn't been shaking when he entered the fighting ring, but they were wobbly now. _She had the damndest luck,_ he thought.

The captain grabbed Malcolm by the shoulder and shook him out of his nightmare. "We have to go. The guards are regrouping."

As Androcles grew tired of fishing for thin air, he turned with a roar to pin the pair of men on the other side of the arena with a steely look. The guards were less concerned with attacking the humans than they were with running away from the animal. Archer and Reed scrambled to keep ahead of the fleeing guards as the vicious creature indulged in some well-earned revenge. The slightly smaller feline creature that had been pinned down by Reed's battle-axe backed up and tossed her head to the right and left, pulling against her restraint until the anchor fell out of the ground and she had the freedom of her chain. Realizing she was free to run anywhere, she turned and raced for the iron door that led back to her dark chamber, slipping inside just before it was slammed shut by the guard on the inside.

Andie set one foot forward to follow her, probably with the intent to free her as well, but Tucker grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back. "Don't you think you've tempted Fate enough for one day?" he hissed. He changed her course and tried to maneuver her closer to the other pair of humans. The circling animal and the harried keepers had to move to keep ahead of Androcles' sharp, dripping teeth, and by the time Andie and Trip maneuvered to the space under the fallen canopy, their crewmen were slightly further away.

Behind them there was a twang followed by a hiss. An arrow appeared in the dirt in front of Tucker's foot. An archer had sent them a warning and he was already preparing another missile. Andie scowled. She picked up her stolen dagger and drew back her arm. The archer heard a brief hiss of wind just before his right shoulder flared with pain. The blade lodged in the sinew and the sudden pain caused the arrow he already had on the string to go wild. It severed a line that held one last panel of purple fabric upright. The flapping purple canopy fluttered in the wind as it began to drift down into the dirt arena.

"Climb!" Andie nudged Trip closer to the fallen cloth.

"What about...?" He didn't even get to nod his head at their friends.

"They have two good hands. You have one. Climb!" Andie ordered. Trip obligingly wrapped his good arm around the fabric and began the tedious work of clambering up the steep wall. Andie turned and put her fingers in her mouth and let out a piercing whistle that cut through the screams of the crowd and the thunder of feet and the cries of the creature that stalked its prey.

Archer and Reed both looked up. They could see the trail to freedom. Instead of hiding behind the last guard, they shoved him to one side and attempted to make a dash for the exit.

Ferocious jaws slavered as Androcles turned his head too. His glittering eyes took in the fluttering fabric and the man that clawed his way to the top. The _ktirya_ could see the way to freedom and he didn't intend to let it slip away. Gathering his legs under him, he raced for the wall. Andie saw him coming and tried to back out of his path, but her foot slipped on a mushy vegetable that had been tossed into the ring when the prisoners were brought in. Once again her feet flew up in the air and the impact with the ground drove the breath from her lungs as the animal gathered its body for one gigantic leap straight over her head.

On the viewing platform above a few villagers remained. They heard the whistle, the saw the oncoming animal and they could see he intended to join them on the viewing platform. Hands reached out and pulled the fabric up, hopefully out of reach. Trip Tucker only had to hold on and he was dragged up and over the fence to land in a sprawl at the foot of the coarse-looking woman from whom Reed had taken the pottery. Her cloaked companion lifted a head and saw the sharp claw of the creature hook over the barrier. She pulled Tucker to his feet as the rest of the _ktirya_ followed.

Androcles reached the top of the wall and looked directly at Tucker and the pair of women. He roared once more and everyone not pinned by his gaze fled screaming. Lean muscles ripples as Androcles slunk off the fence and advanced upon the trio left facing him. Tucker pushed the women behind him and nudged them back toward the railing. The _ktirya_ stalked them until their backs were against the rear railing. While Tucker gulped and prayed that death would be quick, he could hear a soft muttering behind him. To his surprise Androcles simply bunched his body up and soared over their heads, disappearing over the railing. He landed on the ground and proceeded to snarl his way through the village. Unfortunately as he soared through the air, his wildly whipping tail lashed out at the final second and struck the engineer. Trip Tucker found himself falling through the air to land heavily on his beleaguered posterior, knocking the breath from his lungs.

On the arena floor Archer and Reed reached Andie's side and pulled her to her feet. Their exit was gone; the canopy had been pulled up and there was no hope of climbing over the tall fence. The last of the villagers were disappearing and the faces that appeared at the top of the wall belonged to well-armed soldiers. The trio backed up together, hoping to guard each other's backs, even as they realized the futility of escape. They were trapped.

Andie was fuming. "I hate prison," she muttered darkly.

"Now is not the time for your stories, Doctor," Reed cautioned, keeping an eye on the two sentries closest to him. "By the way, you are hereby banned from planning any further rescue or escape attempts without my authorization."

"Bite me hard, Reed," Andie groused.

"You have all attacked the Imminent Queen of the Watchtower today!" The herald who bore a badge on his shoulder indicating a military title called down into the pit with disapproval. He was standing on the remains of the purple canopy.

The elegant lady appeared at his side. "And you will all pay the price." She gestured to her guards. "Kill them!"

Several new faces entered the arena and surrounded them; they were heavily armed. One was familiar. Andie eyed the guard closest to her. In spite of his helmet she could see he had a vague look of stupidity on his face. "Nelek?" she noted with surprise. "How's it hangin', pal?"

The tall, slightly dumb male hesitated. His eyes traveled down her disheveled form to her toes and back up. "Not a mark on her," he whispered to the man on his right. "She was attacked and they left her unmarked. The beasts obey." He looked at the man on his other side. "She has magic. Fire falls from her fingers." Several members of his audience widened their eyes with an understanding that failed to reach the humans.

Malcolm's hand appeared on Andie's arm, drawing her back behind him for protection. For once, she didn't argue with him. Nelek seemed to have lost his deep rage but his fascination with her was even more unnerving.

"Kill them!" the Queen reiterated in frustration.

Only one soldier stepped forward to carry out her order but his path was impeded by the men around him. They didn't seem about to attack. They seemed puzzled.

"Death is required for those who would attack the Chosen One!" The queen hissed.

"Aye, lady," one old man nodded. His one good eye gleamed with what looked like tears as he dropped to one knee, his sword lay across his bent knee and his head bowed.

"Oh, no! That's not good!" Andie protested as her eyes went wide. "No, no! No! Don't do that!"

Another man took a knee, as did Nelek.

Jon Archer turned around and looked at his doctor with surprise. "What the hell did you do to them?"

Sarcasm was heavy when she answered. "Oh, you know, in all my spare time I whipped up a little love spell," she snorted. "What the hell do you think? I didn't do anything!" Then she cocked an eyebrow and spread her hands out, palms up, to indicate that it was anyone's guess what was going on.

The villagers missed her sarcastic tone. At her mention of spells several more men dropped to their knees, moaning in agony.

"Perhaps you could use this to our advantage," Malcolm whispered in her ear.

Andie nodded vaguely. "So...we're gonna...go now," she announced hesitantly. "It's been fun. You just… stay here and bow. It's good for your posture." She took a step backward and Jon and Malcolm mimicked her movement.

They took another step backward and another. They had just drawn even with one of the iron doors that led down into the waiting wards when it slid open with a clang. The man with the badge on his shoulder was there with several other armed men, none of whom seemed inclined to genuflect.

"I'm afraid you'll have to stay, Lady," the man stated firmly. With a gesture, the humans were surrounded and there was no more hope of running.

Once their hands were bound in front of them again, the elegant lady appeared at the side of the captain of her guard. "Return this one to his cage," her eyes flickered over Archer. "With his new companion," she added, gazing disdainfully at Reed. The men were grabbed and pulled into the dark tunnel toward the cages. Their struggles didn't do them any good.

Andie remained stiffly alert and poised for flight.

"We can't kill her, m'lady," her herald whispered. "Not while they believe."

That was unpleasant news. "Secure her," the woman fumed. "Until We can determine her usefulness to Us." The use of the empirical 'we' drew Andie's brows together in disgust.

The herald reached out to take Andie's arm. She jerked away. "Not you," she refused quietly. "Him." Her chin indicated the still kneeling Nelek.

The guard looked suspiciously at the bowed man-child. "He will not be swayed to your plans," he told her.

"Then you have nothing to worry about," Andie answered, lifting her chin higher. She'd always found that they enemy you knew was better than the one that you didn't. Nelek rose to his feet and escorted her to an iron cage that was brought into the ring on the back of a cart drawn by a horse-like creature.

"How can this be, Merwyn?" The elegant woman hissed to her herald.

"Perhaps it is as it should be," Captain Merwyn answered. "The prophecies are unclear." He missed the dark look she threw his way.

"Well, then, I will consult them again to be certain," the woman answered stiffly. She swept her skirts aside and left the dirt and filth of the arena. There was no need to consult the scrolls; she knew exactly what they would say.

* * *

_Prison_

_Day Five: Late morning_

Neither Archer nor Reed went quietly into that dark hole. They struggled against their jailors who shoved them through the narrow corridors and through the heavy door leading to the room that Archer had vacated not so long ago. The first guard jostled Archer harder than was strictly necessary in spite of his bindings and Reed aimed an elbow directly at his face. There was quite a resistance as they neared the open door to their incarceration.

Bound as they were the struggle didn't last long and both men were sporting fresh bruises as they lay in the dry grasses that littered the floor. Three of the cages were filled with the carnivorous creatures, which paced restlessly at the incursion of fresh meat, including the smaller female that had been in the arena with them, but the animals could not reach into the cell that held the humans.

Archer was not pleased to be locked once more in a familiar iron cage. "Hell of a rescue plan, Lieutenant!" he snapped.

Reed was slightly less irritable. "It's only just started, sir."

There was something in Reed's tone that made Archer stop his restless pacing and take a closer look at the tactical officer. Malcolm was barely suppressing a smirk. Archer squared his shoulders and looked askance.

Malcolm opened one hand and displayed the heavy iron key he held in his grip.

Now Archer was the one barely suppressing a smirk. "Where did you learn to do that?" he couldn't resist the inquiry. He recognized the key as the one that had been decorating the belt of his captor up until a few minutes ago, just before the struggle began.

"I've been spending too much time with the doctor, sir." His dark eyebrows lifted in a sort of apology before the man regained his feet and peered at the heavy door that led into the room. "Of course, she would have stolen his knife." He shifted his bound hands restlessly in front of him.

"What are the chances that she will sit quietly until we come to rescue her?" Archer inquired, standing behind the head of security.

"She's not too keen on waiting, sir," Malcolm winced. _They might spare her life if she remained docile. _He shook his head as though he'd spoken out loud. They would have to work quickly.

Working as quietly as rusty metal would allow, Reed reached awkwardly through the space between the bars and slid the key into place and turned it. The door groaned on its hinges, but nobody came to inspect. Both men shared a nod of encouragement before creeping up to the heavy wooden door that blocked their path. It was locked and neither man could reach through the narrow square to unlock it, assuming that their key would open this door as well.

"Perhaps a ruse is in order?" Reed suggested. "If you play sick, perhaps they'll check on you."

"Sure," Archer complied. They changed positions and waited a few more minutes. There seemed to be a great deal of movement going on further down the corridor. Noises crept in through the open hole that served as a window; they seemed comprised of screams and growls and thuds of an unknown nature. Almost a half hour had passed and the noises set their nerves on edge but it didn't seem anyone would be passing by in their direction for a bit and they had to be patient. Neither man was happy to endure, but eventually a man was seen striding through the outer corridor. As soon as he was near enough, Archer groaned loudly. "Please! Help me!"

The guard seemed nervous, but eventually came to their aid. He slid his key into the outer door and entered with his eyes on the cage which he realized too late was empty. Before he grasped what that meant he was attacked on two sides. Archer and Reed used their bound hands to offer two-handed blows until he dropped to the floor. After rifling his pockets for useful items, they dragged the guard into the newly empty cell and Jon swung the door closed with relish at being on the right side for once.

They took turns cutting through their bindings with the guard's dagger and once their hands were free, Archer offered the great sword to the lieutenant. "I've never had professional training," Jon smirked, remembering the rumors that the doctor had been instructing Reed.

"I've never won a fight with her," Reed noted, before accepting the weapon. The double-sided blade was almost as long as his leg and ended in a slight curve. It was as heavy as he expected.

Archer secured his grip on the dagger, whose blade was only half the length of the sword. "Let's go," he grimaced.

In the few moments it had taken to restrain the guard, the corridor had emptied out. Once again Reed thought the silence was more worrisome than the noise. Just then a different noise cut through the hush; it was a sound he had dreaded hearing since he had been parted from the slight female: a high-pitched shriek. They were torturing her.

Both men hurried through the dark cavern. They burst through the archways leading into the arena, expecting to see the female being feasted upon by one of the fearsome beasts. What they saw instead was enough to halt them both.

Andie wasn't dead or dying. She was standing just outside of her cage and chatting with a couple of people. They weren't guards for they wore no uniforms. They reached out and tried to force her toward a rope that dangled over one wooden wall of the arena. It looked like she had her own rescue in place, but for some reason she wasn't taking it.

"I said not without my friends!" Andie snapped. Her gaze lifted higher to survey the landscape and found what she'd been looking for hesitating in the doorway. "See? I told you they'd be here!" She waved them over.

"What the hell is going on?" Archer hissed.

"The guards went off for a confab and these villagers showed up to release me," the young woman said as though it should be obvious.

"What did you do?" Reed demanded.

"I didn't do anything!" she hissed in return. "They locked me in a cage. I started humming and then the people got weird!"

"What do you mean they got weird?" It would have to be pretty strange for anything to seem out of the ordinary these days.

"They let me out of a cage in spite of their Queen's proclamation, _for example_," she retorted.

"What were you humming?" Jon inquired with puzzlement.

"I don't think the song is important," Andie muttered. At his exasperated look, she caved. "You know that Disney song about that woman who makes cute puppies into coats? I was humming _Cruella de Vil_," she tossed out with irritation. "That nasty bitch irritates me."

"Cruella or the Queen?" Archer responded with a raised eyebrow.

"At the moment, they are one and the same," she grumbled.

"And they fell at your feet?" Malcolm snorted. "Easy crowd," he remarked, looking around. "Where's Commander Tucker?"

"He made it over the wall," Andie shrugged. "I guess he made it out alive."

"Unless the _ktirya_ got him," one of the villagers rasped.

Jon and Malcolm looked ill. Andie just shot the villager a dirty look. "You're not helping," she informed him curtly.

While they chatted, the villagers had urged them toward the escape route and Malcolm indicated that Andie should precede them up the rope. "After you, m'lady," he gestured. He was rewarded with a dirty look of his own before she grabbed the rope and climbed nimbly to the top, muttering under her breath the whole time.

The men followed after; Archer a little slower than his younger counterparts. There were seats up here; the better to see the gladiator ring, and it was no trouble to pull the rope through to the other side and slide down to the ground outside. Their rescuers weren't in a chatty mood; they merely herded the humans along.

Archer was the last and he was only halfway down the rope when the world shook. An enormous earthquake loosened his grip and flung him to the ground. There was a sound like an explosion and people cried out in fear. Reed and the doctor helped the captain to his feet and they looked around and found people pointing at a spot in the distance. By turning their heads, they saw a rockslide of debris sliding down a mountain slope, rushed along by hundreds of gallons of dirty water.

"I guess that cavern found a way to displace all that water," Reed theorized.

"Let's go while they're all distracted. They don't like water," Archer suggested, bracing his arm against his aching side and nudging the woman ahead of him. They made their careful way through the village, where crowds stood around viewing the new waterfall with awe and fear. Just as they cleared the last house, and began the arduous climb up the gentle slope that would lead them back to the woods where their campsite lay, a shout was heard.

That shout was followed by a clang and the crowd yelped and started racing for the safety of their homes. Reed turned around and spotted the trouble. Their escape had been noticed by the guards. No longer trying to be secretive, the trio made a break for it, heading for the sparse cove of bushes off to one side. Those few who had assisted in their escape tried to converge in a group, to slow down the aggressors, but the humans could see that there was no hope of escaping when the guards circled them on horseback.

Well, they sort of looked like horses at any rate.

It took far less time that expected to find their progress blocked. Archer, Reed and Andie halted inside the circle of stamping beasts, mindful of the swords and arrows pointed at them. No further action was taken; they just waited there on the plain. A steed approached them, bearing two riders.

The soldier at the front slipped down silently, extending two hands to assist the elegant lady from her position behind. She accepted his assistance to dismount but didn't give him another look. She stood before the humans and sized them up. This close to her, they could see that she was much younger than they had anticipated. She had long dark hair that was coiled in an intricate design on the back of her head, and her features were more like the humans than the sagging faces of her subjects. She spoke with precise enunciation and her posture was stiffly erect.

"I am Queen Sadiré," she announced. "I am the ruler of the Watchtower. Who are you?"

"I am Captain Archer," Jon stepped forward. "This is Lieutenant Reed and Doctor Andie. We're just passing through your kingdom and we'd like to be on our way."

"You attacked me," she sniffed with disdain.

"We didn't attack anyone!" Reed objected.

Sadiré just looked at them as though trying to ascertain their veracity or perhaps just to understand their strange dialect. "Why do you travel here?" she inquired.

"One direction is as good as another," Andie broke in. "There's not much here and we plan to move on."

"We'd like to offer our apologies for any inconvenience we may have caused," Captain Archer interjected. "But if it's all the same to you, we'd like to be on our way. We won't return."

"You cannot leave," Sadiré told them plainly, with a careless gesture at the village behind them. "Your actions have created a problem. They believe you are the Chosen One, spoken of in prophecy since Time Before." Her jaw rippled at that pronouncement, as her eyes traveled down the disheveled length of the doctor. Clearly the Imminent Queen was not happy about that development.

"Chosen for what?" Andie demanded.

"It is said the Chosen One will unmake the world," Sadiré answered.

"That's ridiculous," Andie snorted. "I'm not unmaking anything. I just want to leave."

"You have made that impossible." Sadiré sounded bitter. "The stars fall to earth. You commune with beasts. It is the prophecy come to life. There is no place you can go where they will not follow."

"You don't know where I can go," Andie challenged, lifting her chin.

"Stop antagonizing her," Reed hissed under his breath.

"Your prophecies are wrong," Andie changed tactics quickly. "I have not been chosen for anything. Who made this prophecy?"

Sadiré's face turned purple. "My mother was a great seer! She was never wrong!"

"I'd like to meet her and hear the words myself," Andie added calmly.

"The Lady Letizia is dead," one of the soldiers surrounding them announced. "Lady Sadiré protects the Tower now."

His words brought irritation to the Imminent Queen's face. "Take your leave!" she commanded loud enough for the men in the circle to hear. "Leave us to palaver without your prying ears!" The circle of guards pulled back far enough to give them some privacy but not so far that another flight would be advisable.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Andie murmured. "Perhaps she left behind some writing of her visions for us to examine?"

Sadiré fumed. "There is no questioning of the Seer of the Tower! Her words are irrefutable! The Chosen One will unmake the world and your legacy has already begun! Water flows again from the fountain of life!" She gestured to the falls now glittering in the ruddy light of this world.

"Honey, I don't have any kind of legacy on your world," Andie protested. "Why don't you just tell the people that this is a misunderstanding? Tell you that you made the waterfall. Maybe they'll elect you the Chosen One and we could go on our way!"

Jon stepped forward and laid a hand on his doctor's arm. "Maybe we should see where this goes?" he suggested carefully.

"Oh, Hell no!" Andie emphatically refused.

"Give it a shot!" Archer encouraged.

"I don't want to be _chosen_!" she whispered fiercely in his ear. "You know what happens to people who get _chosen_? They get thrown into volcanoes! They get sacrificed on altars! They go into politics! _I am not cut out for politics!_" she hissed desperately.

Under other circumstances, he would have agreed with her vehemently.

"Lady Andromeda?" Reed cut in. His voice was low and he looked directly at her, taking his vigilant gaze away from the men with weapons. Every angry outburst from Andie was making the men shift with apprehension He concluded that it might not be a good idea to lose their support in this matter, and tried to make Andie see that compliance would be better here. "Lady Sadiré requires your assistance. Perhaps you might consider that this is an offer you should not refuse?"

"Excuse me?" Andie turned her head at the use of her full name, the ridiculous moniker her father had chained around her neck at birth. Nobody else on _Enterprise_ had had ever heard that name before, and few others on Earth or elsewhere could claim the same. Yet here was Reed, spouting it out in front of the captain. She had half a mind to wash his mouth out with soap.

"You spoke last evening of things that you wanted," he looked deep into her eyes. "Perhaps you are in a position to have a few of those needs met."

_Things that she wanted? What the hell was he talking about?_ The only thing she could think of that she really wanted was a really big cup of coffee..._Oh. Of course._

In an instant her demeanor changed. Her shoulders drew back and her chin lifted. She went from a grubby vagabond to a titled woman in a single breath. Her ability to change was impressive, Reed concluded; much like a chameleon changing its colors to hide from predators. "Perhaps she cannot manage my price," Andie suggested coolly.

"You seem to be under the impression that you are being given a choice, and that is incorrect. You will serve as long as the people would have you, Lady Andromeda." Sadiré was quite firm about that.

Andie was quite imperious. "I am Lady Andrea. Only my father and his henchmen call me Andromeda." She tossed a filthy look at Reed who managed to look both alert and amused. "And I serve no one without compensation!"

Sadiré lifted her head. "It is possible that I might manage some accommodations," she offered through gritted teeth. The sordid talk of coin was something she certainly understood.

"I would have no idea what to say to your people," Andie stated baldly.

"I would be happy to lend my assistance to your reign," Sadiré said, sounding as though every word caused her physical pain.

"It would be difficult to present myself to your people if I spoke to them from behind bars," Andie suggested.

"You will have adequate quarters in my castle." The Queen was not happy about that submission.

"It would be difficult to remember all the things you would have me say to your people if my stomach were to growl loudly enough to drown out your voice," Andie added loftily.

"You will dine at my table," Sadiré added stiffly.

"A filthy vagabond could not pull off such impressive credentials."

"You will be dressed as befits your status!" Sadiré snapped. Her eyes narrowed. "How is it you came to be without carriage or chest and traveling on foot in these parts?"

"We were set upon by vagabonds," Captain Archer broke in. "They took everything."

Instead of words of sympathy, Sadiré just looked thoughtful at that information. "These are dangerous times," she murmured.

"I will not be your executioner," Andie told her darkly. "Nobody will be harmed by my decree while I am in your employ. That includes those creatures in your arena. You should consider letting them go."

"Releasing the animals would place the villagers in danger. They must remain in their confinement. And I will not call upon you to kill on my behalf." The woman looked smug at this concession.

"I have one further demand," Andie added, stepping closer and looking the dark haired woman in the eye. "You will not lay so much as a single finger on my men. You will guarantee their safety against you and all those you command. The second their health is jeopardized, no matter how insignificantly, I will rethink our alliance." The threat was clear.

"I will not jeopardize your men," Sadiré purred, her smile stretching across her Cheshire face.

"Then we have an accord," Andie stepped back and offered her hand.

Sadiré looked at it with some distaste before gesturing behind her to the crowd gathering at the gates to the village. "You will serve at my discretion for the length of your rule and you will have your needs met. The moment you are no longer useful to Us We will have you removed. Your men will be free to move on without you after that." She smiled coolly. "Your public waits. The first order of business is to introduce you as the Chosen Ones according to the Old Prophecies. You can explain that the waterfall is a sign of benevolence."

Andie didn't take kindly to that threat. Her own smile would have frozen Hell. "Honey? I don't walk. Why don't you be a dear and go fetch whatever conveyance might measure up to my exacting standards?" Andie sank to the ground with all the grace she could manage in a rumpled uniform covering a body full of stiff muscles. When Sadiré didn't move, Andie waved her hands at her to encourage her. "Run along, pumpkin. I haven't got all day."

The Imminent Queen Sadiré turned on her heel and stomped back to the gathering crowd, held in place by the bulk of her security guards.

Once the lady was gone, Archer squatted down next to his doctor. "Do you have to antagonize her?"

"Yes, I do. It makes me feel better," Andie snorted pertly. "Why do you suppose they call her the _Imminent_ Queen? Doesn't that sound like she's not really a queen?"

"You didn't ask for your own safety," Malcolm noted, hunkering down beside her.

"I didn't have to. If she touches me, she'll have some _really_ big problems," Andie assured him. "How long am I supposed to play this part?" she inquired looking between her two guardians.

"As long as she holds us hostage," Archer answered, eyeing the sentinels that still surrounded them.

Andie eyed him evenly. "_I _can be out of here in twenty minutes," she informed him. "How long do you think _you'll_ be sticking around?" Her eyes twinkled and her lips twitched with a smile. "Oh wait!" She swung her head around to Malcolm. "How long do you think _your_ rescue efforts will take? I'll schedule my escape accordingly."

"How long do you think you can play this part before someone tries to kill you?" Reed countered. "That list of assassins should include both Captain Archer and myself, I'm sure."

"If you call me Andromeda again that attempt on your life will come sooner rather than later." She threatened idly. Her head turned back to the gawking crowd of peasants. Andie scrambled to her feet and dusted her ragged clothing of dust.

"I thought you don't walk anywhere," Archer pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't _wait_ either!" Andie informed him loftily. She lifted her head high, as though she wore sumptuous gown, rather than a tattered uniform, and sauntered toward the growing crowd.

"Why do I feel like she might be a bigger problem than a murderous queen?" Archer sighed.

"Well, you have met her, sir." Malcolm offered with a look of concern at the departing female. "At least you'll have a reprieve as you are outranked, and she'll be directing the bulk of her dislike of authority figures onto the Queen instead of the captain."

Jon considered that. "Dislike of authority figures, huh?"

"Hadn't you noticed?" Reed stifled the small grin.

"That could be a problem. How long do you think she can keep this up?"

"It's not Andie's aptitude for deception that concerns me," Reed answered. "I'm more concerned with someone else deciding that she's not what they expected, or that she stands in their way. She may have earned the title of Chosen One on behalf of the crowd, but that certainly doesn't mean that she's safe."

Archer exhaled loudly. This outing just kept getting more complicated. At least he was busy again, and didn't have time for any pesky thoughts about how he wasn't certain he wanted this life anymore. There was too much to do, and Reed could always be counted on to look at him as though he was the captain. _Which he was_, he acknowledged. _Captains don't get vacations._ He squared his shoulders again. "Let's go catch up to the Lady Andrea."

* * *

_Renaisterre Castle_

_Day Five: Mid-morning_.

Roland had put aside the scrolls, written in small and nearly unreadable handwriting with relief when he was summoned. He had hurried through the corridors to the bedside of his king, surprised to find Father Baldric hovering over the thin body when he arrived. When he entered, the cleric folded his hands together and stepped backward before turning and exiting through the door.

The king's eyes opened, slowly focusing on his trusted advisor.

"My liege!" Roland knelt at his bedside. "Your kingdom will rejoice at your good health!"

The king whispered something that the captain of the guard couldn't quite make out. He offered a glass of watered down wine and the old man sipped carefully. He drew in a deep breath and tried again.

"The key is missing." Galen's withered hand reached out from under his blankets to fondle the space at his throat where a metal chain used to reside, carrying the greatest treasure of his possessions.

Roland gasped.

"Find the key!" the king commanded before sinking back into his restless sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 14

* * *

_Village Arena_

_Day Five: Mid-morning_

The whipping tail knocked Tucker backward over the railing. He landed hard on his backside and the wind was knocked out of him. He was inclined to lay there for a bit while tiny birds fluttered in circles around his head, but screams began to pierce through the raging headache to his consciousness. Rolling to his feet, he ignored the dull ache in his forearm and started running, trying to make his way back to the main portal. He had to get back inside and help his friends.

Instead he ran straight into the challenging stance of the large creature Andie had dubbed Androcles. The male animal opened his slavering jaws and roared. Trip didn't skip a beat; he just slid to a halt and changed direction, running away from the entrance to the arena. Arrows zinged through the air with a sharp hiss, but none made contact. They didn't seem to be meant for him. People were screaming around him and pushing him thither and yon.

Every time Trip paused to look back over his shoulder to judge the possibility of heading back he saw the great carnivorous beast pursuing and he urged his tired legs to run faster. His course took him through the village and up the slope. Those few people that were still outside took one look at him and scrambled to close doors and secure window openings. Tucker rightly guessed that Androcles was following him.

A stitch attacked his sides and he gasped for breath. His head was pounding and he had a feeing that shallow gash on his chest had broken open to seep down his already dirty uniform. He could hear a roar behind him, coupled with evenly spaced thunder. He risked a glance backward; the thunder belonged to lightly hoofed creatures that were not dissimilar to horses. Their riders were bearing down on him and drawing blades and putting arrow to string. They were going to catch him at any moment and he just didn't have the strength to put forth any more speed. In fact, he was about to lose the momentum he already had.

From the periphery charged Androcles, moving faster than the horses could run. One giant leap took him right over the top of one steed, toppling the rider closest to Tucker to the ground. The horse screamed and fled in the opposite direction. Rather than face down the angry animal, the humanoid also scrambled to his feet and fled. It was the same with the second cavalryman. One swipe at the hindquarters caused the rider to cling for dear life to the suddenly retreating steed even though the claws had merely scratched his flank.

The third rider rose up on his stirrups, taking careful aim with a bow. From this distance he would fire his missile before Androcles could turn. Trip stopped running and picked up a pretty hefty rock. He figured he owed the carnivore this much for covering his escape. The rock sailed through the air and knocked the rider sideways. His boot caught in a loop on the saddle and the lathered horse was unfettered to turn and flee, dragging his rider along the ground.

As Trip stood in place with his chest burning with the effort of trying to fill his lungs with air and his legs as wobbly as gelatin, he waited for the end. He waited for Androcles to turn and take his animalistic rage out on the closest human. Salty sweat dripped into his eyes and his vision blurred. One sleeve wiped at the sopping mess and when he regained his sight, he saw the beast prowling several meters away. Obviously Androcles didn't want to come any closer to the human than the human wanted him to do.

Trip took a cautious step forward in the direction of the village and his friends. Androcles growled and lowered himself into an attack crouch. The engineer immediately stopped his progress. In a moment when Androcles did not advance, Trip took another step, this time in the direction of the forest and the steep hills that would take him back to Starfleet Hollow.

Androcles sat back, swishing his thick tail, but not growling. Tucker took another step toward the tree line and Androcles put one paw forward, waiting until Tucker took a third step before putting his weight on it.

"So you're gonna walk me home?" Trip panted, feeling the head rush of the fading adrenaline. He didn't want to turn his back on the wild animal, but he had no choice. The terrain was dangerous and unfamiliar and he had to watch his step. As he faced the trees and began his march he prepared to feel those sharp claws sink into his unprotected shoulders. He waited for those dripping teeth to chomp through the sinew and bone. He waited for the fetid breath full of dead things to overcome his nostrils indicating that the creature was too close, but nothing came. When he turned back around, the large animal was nowhere to be seen.

Invisible attackers only made him more nervous. Unconvinced that there was nothing he could do, he took one, two, three steps back toward the village but stopped when a roar could be heard inside the tree line, but not far away. He retraced his steps back to the forest and there was no more noise.

"I guess I'm goin' home," he sighed. It wasn't such a bad idea; he was injured and he would need backup to break into that fortress and rescue his crewmates. He'd been far from home for nearly two days and he remembered the rough terrain very well, having traversed it in both early morning daylight and late night shadows. His stomach growled and he consoled himself that there would be emergency ration packs back at camp.

_On second thought, maybe it wouldn't be so good to get home_; the thought made him snort.

From this vantage position it took him more than an hour to get back to the place where the rogue's had built their campsite and every step made him wince in pain. Halfway there he heard an faint explosion and the ground trembled a little. Trip would have turned back to see what misery had occurred, but a faint growl from a nearby thicket put end to that plan. Worry creased his forehead, and he soldiered on. Cradling his arm made his path harder to follow, but extending it made his eyes water. He consoled his heavy heart with the thought that one little laser coupled with a syringe of bone paste would set him up right as rain.

A rustling leaf to his left made him halt. Immediately he ducked his head and tried to blend in with the thin vegetation here. He knew good and well that not everything in the forest could be trusted, and he didn't have any kind of weapon. For once he hoped like hell that Androcles was not too far away.

There was another rustle. A dry stick snapped, probably under a considerable weight. Trip crouched down and wrapped his hand around a branch he found on the ground. It wasn't much bigger than a switch, but it would have to do. The rustles were closer now. Springing unbidden to mind was the thought that maybe Androcles had young'uns to feed and that's why a strange and primitive animal had driven him away from the others; feeding off the weakened member of the herd, so to speak. Trip swallowed, although the act made his dry throat hurt. He readjusted his grip on the switch, guessed which direction the threat came in and jumped out of the bushes, hoping to scare the other person into forgetting to attack.

For the second time in as many days, Trip came face to face with the muzzle of a gun; this time a phase rifle held with murderous intent by Sergeant Mackenzie. She looked as surprised to see Tucker as he was to see her. From behind him there came the sound of a cracking twig. The engineer whirled around to find there had been a second gunman slipping up behind, and he'd never even heard Corporal Woods until it was too late.

All three sighed with relief when the shock wore off. Although Trip's relief waited until both the phase rifles were lowered.

"We've been looking for you, sir," Mackenzie started reproachfully. "You've been missing."

"Where's the captain?" Woods inquired eagerly. "And the doctor?"

"And the lieutenant," Mac added, looking sternly at Woods until he fell silent.

"Long story," Trip sighed, bracing his arm against his side as his drive disappeared now that he was being rescued and the mild fracture in his forearm started to ache again. "There's only two of you? We need to get back to camp. T'Pol will need to send reinforcements."

"In a minute," Mac told him, noting his cradled arm. She knelt down and pulled out her medical kit and Trip nearly groaned with joy at the simple pleasure of technology when she used a medical scanner to determine his injuries. He thrilled in the bliss of a hypo-spray filled with painkillers. Then he indulged the sweet happiness of a canteen full of fresh water, even if the water had been chemically treated in order to be drinkable and still tasted vaguely dirty.

"She only sent two of us because the rest are guarding camp," Woods informed him. "There are man-eating beasts out here."

"Don't I know it," Trip grumbled.

Once Tucker's arm was restrained in a simple brace, the trio rose to their feet. Trip felt well enough to be the first one to turn back toward the village. "We gotta get our people outta there."

"You're not going anywhere, Commander," Mac put up her hand to forestall any future arguments. "The only place you're going is back to the Hollow to report to Commander T'Pol. You're the only person who really knows what's happening and you should be the one to give the report. Woods, you retrace the commander's trail. Keep an eye on that village and keep track of our crew. Remain invisible. Do not interact with anyone without orders from above."

"Yeah I got it, boss," Woods waved away her warnings. "Look but don't touch. It'll be tough to communicate with the Hollow with our communication channels down."

"I got an idea about that," Trip sighed. "Let's get started." Although he thought he was feeling better, he nearly fell to the ground with the effort of trying to stand. Not only was he exhausted and hungry, he was also injured. The painkillers helped, but his headache still pounded away like the percussion section in a marching band.

Mac grabbed his good arm and pulled him to his feet where he swayed slightly. "Can you do this, sir? I can bring back a medical team."

"I'm fine," Trip announced. "Let's go." Leaving felt wrong, but he was in no condition to stay. He just hoped that Archer's penchant for getting out of trouble was still intact.

The pair started off into the woods, leaving the corporal behind to get comfortable. Trip hoped that Androcles would appreciate that the young man was not his enemy and leave him alone; but at the same time he realized he'd lost track of the carnivorous beast. The _ktirya_ could be anywhere. It was going to be a long and worrisome journey back to civilization

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Five: Late Afternoon_

T'Pol regretted ever stepping outside of her domicile when she heard yet another commotion in camp, this one coming from the Medical Tent. For just one moment she closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, willing herself to release the frustration and to absorb all the calm she could muster before heading over to see what was the trouble. It was not the first argument she'd interrupted today and she was certain it would not be the last.

Crewman Cutler and Ensign Black were arguing and their voices were carrying loudly enough to be heard through the thin walls.

"You were nowhere to be found so I took the initiative!" Liz's voice could be heard.

"I was in the head!" Ian's voice countered. "And it doesn't matter! You're just a crewman! You're not qualified to dispense medication!"

"I am also a scientist and I can follow the directions left by the doctor!"

"The doctor isn't here and I'm in charge!"

"Actually I am the senior officer in charge," T'Pol broke in, stepping out of the weak light into the dimness of the tent. Both arguers turned to look at her with surprise. "Will one of you tell me in a quiet voice what is the problem?"

"I just...!"

"She's totally...!"

"I said _quietly_!" T'Pol's voice rose a bit on that last word and both med-techs stopped and looked at her in surprise. It hadn't quite managed to be a shout, but for the Vulcan it was an extreme reaction. The commander struggled to regain that calm she had gained before entering. "The quartermaster has a pair of shovels to spare and there is a section of ground that needs a hole. Perhaps one of you would be willing to begin again."

Liz and Ian glanced at one another with trepidation before Ensign Black took the initiative. Beginning with a stern look at his coworker, he stated, "I caught Cutler preparing to administer medication to a patient when she has no authority to do so. She's just a Crewman."

Cutler fumed but kept a civil tone. "Ensign Black was late in administering the medication prescribed for the patient by Dr. Andie. I can follow directions to fill a hypo-spray!"

Full lips pressed together with displeasure. "So you decided to argue about your individual ranks rather than tend the patient in your care?" T'Pol's eyebrow arched, leaving the ends to point accusingly at the quarreling pair.

"Um..." Black shuffled his feet. Cutler remained silent.

"Treat the crewman," T'Pol directed. "Then you will each find a shovel. I will oversee operations in the Medical Tent until you have finished digging." There was a sudden tickle at the back of her neck as though a strand of hair had fallen out of place. With her short bob, that was unlikely so she did her best to ignore it.

The med-techs snuck another worried glance. Ian still had blisters from the last hole-digging session he'd engaged in, and Cutler was not eager to join Club Mud, as the others had come to jokingly refer to it.

Their punishment came to a halt with the sudden and delirious barking of the captain's beagle. The prickling on T'Pol's neck grew more pronounced and she restrained the urge to run a hand over the area to search for that stray hair. Ensign Sato poked her head into the tent and looked at the first officer as Porthos continued to leap and tug on the end of his leash. "Sergeant Chang says someone's coming," she told T'Pol simply. The previous outburst of the Vulcan was still fresh in her mind and she was concerned that there would be another flare-up of temper from their leader.

"Indeed," T'Pol responded evenly. She turned to stare piercingly at Black until he jerked his attention back to the medical pad handed to him by Cutler and began preparations for the hypo-spray. Only then did she duck under the flap and stand in the substandard air of the alien world. The sounds of discreet coughing caught her ears. The crew's health was suffering; they needed their doctor back. Andie must be located and retrieved.

Chang was standing on top of a pod, with his phase pistol lowered as he spoke into his communicator. He glanced down at the Vulcan before holstering his weapon and leaping agilely to the ground. "Mackenzie's on her way, ma'am," he told the Vulcan when he was close enough to lower his voice and exercise futile hope that his words wouldn't carry in the suddenly silent grouping. "She's got the commander. Woods stayed behind to observe."

T'Pol's world sudden swirled around her. A heavy weight lifted from her shoulders and she felt that she could breathe much easier. _He was coming home._ The slight irritation on the back of her neck flattened out and disappeared.

"Commander?" Chang repeated, looking at her with concern. She hadn't been aware that she'd made a sound until he repeated her name.

"Is he injured?" she inquired, hoping she sounded distant. "Will he require medical attention?"

"Mac says that he's got..."

Chang's voice trailed away, although she continued to be aware of his words. They sounded like they were coming from so far away. Unconsciously she smoothed the soiled uniform she wore over her hips, although it was too snug to really wrinkle. She stepped to the sergeant's side as he moved to intercept the incoming pair. Moving outside the confining circle of pods and tents allowed her to breathe easier still, as though the circle of housing had also cinched off the air to her lungs. It seemed to take them forever to arrive, but when they did it was worth the wait.

Commander Tucker was like a dream, looking just as disheveled as when she'd seen him in her white space, but his eyes were open, exposing the blue of a summer sky and his grin was just as warm as sunshine. T'Pol could feel goose flesh puckering her skin, but she fought against her urge to run to him and throw her arms around him and taste the salty skin of his neck. His good arm was slung around the MACO's shoulder while the other was wrapped in a sling. He noticed the crowd waiting for him and stood a little straighter as they passed through the final group of trees and entered the clearing.

_She had to say something to him._ They were all waiting for her to say something. It had to convey the responsibility of her station and hide every physical urge her body was demanding from her.

"You're late, Commander," she spoke at last. "You missed your required check in."

"Sorry 'bout that," he panted, looking at her with dazed surprise. "Couldn't be helped."

"Take him to the Medical Tent," she added, falling in step behind them. Chang went back to his duties and the trio headed for the exam pod.

As though their argument had never happened, Ensign Black performed a scan of his condition and Cutler quietly brought the supplies he requested. Tucker's wounds were bandaged and a plate of food was fetched from the Chef. Trip told everything he knew to the first officer in between bites and then he accepted another hypo from Black, who gained a permissive nod from the Vulcan before administering the sedative. Tucker's eyes grew heavy and he lay back on the bunk. A blanket was pulled up over his chest and he was allowed to sleep.

From the doorway, T'Pol issued further directions to the medical staff to refrain from gossiping about his condition to the crew and to the MACO's to send reinforcements to Corporal Woods. The first officer took one long last look at the weary engineer, fighting the visceral urge to run her fingers over the rough stubble on his chin. The inclination disturbed her; she was still technically a married woman even if her union was all but over. Drawing a deep breath, T'Pol left the man to his rest and headed out of the Medical Suite to make two stops: one to encourage the pair working on the Escape Pod Project and the other to speak with the Communications team per Tucker's hasty suggestion.

* * *

_The Watch Tower:_

_Day Five: Evening_.

They said that the simple things in life were free, but then whoever said that had never had to pay so dearly for a bath, Archer thought. He sunk deeper into a stone tub full of hot water and sighed with relief. All it had taken was the complete discharge of his personal freedom and a couple of stern looks at that damned doctor to find this moment of tranquility. He considered it an even trade at the moment.

Andie had taken to her newfound status as the Chosen One with the same ease she seemed to take to everything. She had returned to the villagers and spoken a few words of encouragement to them before pulling out her medical kit and performing a few procedures on those who would accept. She mended the wound in the shoulder of the archer she had wounded with her knife. She offered a few creams and powders to the somber crowd of the village, which most had taken with circumspection. A rider had returned, scraped and nursing a twisted ankle. And she tended the wounds on Nelek's body that had occurred in the forest while he told anyone who would listen that he had seen her perform miracles, although the child-like man was careful not to reveal where he had seen the magical feats. While she worked, she hummed; a fact that caused the villagers who heard it to stand with their mouths agape and slightly fearful looks in their eyes. Andie was right about that; their reaction to music was just as weird as their reaction to water.

Although only a handful of the forty or so villagers had opened their arms to the Chosen One, Lady Sadiré had not been pleased at their welcome, even if she controlled her displeasure with effort. When she decided that Lady Andrea had played her part long enough, she called for a carriage to take them to the Watchtower. The road from the village was narrow and sharp but when they came around the final corner, the solid stone walls rose above them quite impressively.

Hidden from most views, the walls had been carved straight from the stone of the mountain. There were no signs of seams in the outer wall. They passed through a double set of metal gates into a plain courtyard. A few lean-tos were seen at the foot of the wall. They passed through this outer ward beneath a smaller gateless archway and into the simple beauty of the inner courtyard. Directly ahead of them and built into the steep mountain wall was a long building that the carriage driver referred to as the Great Hall. Smoke poured invitingly from the rooftop chimneys. The stone walls on either side of the inner curtain contained windows, indicating that the living quarters were part of the barricade. A modest garden grew in the corner, near where Archer guessed was the galley.

Everything about the figure-eight shaped dwelling said sturdy and defensible. Even Malcolm had nodded with approval. Sheer rock walls rose on two sides of the castle, making it impossible to ambush. A steep, straight drop on the other side refused access to climbers. And the narrow road at the front made siege difficult.

There were only slightly more than fifty persons to be seen wandering around inside the Tower walls; and their attention was almost entirely on the now flowing waterfall that leaped out of the wall and dropped into a deep well, disappearing under the foundation of the fortress before tumbling again down the steep decline on the other side. Andie nudged Reed with a questioning look and he shrugged. They had no way of knowing if this river of water was the same they had ridden with such recklessness last night. It seemed likely that it was but neither had seen the fortress or the smoke from the chimneys in their morning hike.

Rooms had been offered to them in the barracks that lined the vertical plummet. They were led to a pair of richly decorated quarters. Jon and Malcolm had been offered the room that overlooked the sheer drop with its new waterfall; Malcolm had made a joke about not being concerned with robbers as much as spiders climbing the vertical rock wall. Lady Andrea had been given the room across the hall, overlooking the inner courtyard. Malcolm had sighed with relief, stating it would be difficult for her to slip away in the middle of the night, and perhaps that was Sadiré's plan all along.

The captain had pushed the lieutenant toward the bathtub first, citing odor issues, but really he just wanted to soak at his own leisure without worrying about whether or not Reed would have time to clean up by the time Jon wanted to get out of the water. Once Reed had dressed in the pants and tunic offered by their reluctant hostess, he had indicated a need to circle the fortress and check out their accommodations and Archer had let him go with relief. His joy and gratitude at being clean and warm was suddenly interrupted by a disturbance next door. It was with a heavy heart that he left the warm cocoon of his bathwater and threw on some clothes in order to investigate.

Andie was, of course, the cause of the disturbance. She was still soapy and damp but shrieking at the two women who had been assigned as lady's maids. "I want it back and I want it now!"

"You're mad, you are!" one of the females accused.

For once the doctor was pleased to see the captain. "Excellent! You guard the door and I'll strip search the thieves until they return my articles!"

The servants didn't know who to shrink from first; they wound up shifting away from both humans.

"Is a strip search necessary?" Jon asked tiredly.

"Yes! They're stealing my stuff and I want it back!"

"Perhaps you've misplaced it!" cried out one of the women. She was dressed in a simple but elegant gown in a shade of lavender that might indicate she was a maid of their hostess. Her throaty voice was pinched with nerves.

"I didn't _misplace_ anything!" Andie insisted with a dark glare.

"Innit that what you seek?" inquired the second woman with a voice as rough-hewn as her countenance. The apron over her plain gown, coupled with the silver tray on the foot of the bed, holding a steaming teapot and a delicate mug indicated her service in the mess hall. She was pointing to a flat gray square lying on the velvety coverlet next to the first maid. Lying next to it was another recognizable gizmo.

Andie snatched up the pad and the medical scanner, flicking the button on the pad and checking the contents without losing her stern frown. "Which one of you took it out of my bag?"

"Andie," The captain interjected. "You have your things back now. Maybe we could let the women go?"

Her chin jutted out in a mulish angle. "Fine, but remember this, ladies: The next time something goes missing, I won't conduct an investigation. I'll just assume you came back to finish the job and I will find you. And I will not be pleased."

Archer stepped aside as both women fled through the open doorway. He shut the portal behind them. "Was that necessary?"

"Yes," she insisted, flicking off the pad and relaxing just a bit.

"Maybe you did just misplace your things," Archer pointed out.

"No, I didn't," She insisted, putting both items back in her carry-all.

Archer had to admit that it was unlikely that Andie had misplaced anything. All the items she carried had its own place in her well-organized bag and it was unlikely that something had just fallen out. "Our stuff must seem like magic to them. It's understandable that they'd be interested in it."

"Well they don't have to take it without asking," Andie held her ground.

"I doubt they'll do it again," Jon noted, looking directly at the doctor for once then turning his attention to the ceiling. "Um, Doctor? You want to finish your bath?"

"Sure," she murmured, standing with her hands on her hips and staring at the bed. Clearly she was trying to figure out how they had taken the item and then how they returned it without her notice. She didn't move and the captain was forced to clear his throat.

"Er, Andie? Do you have a robe or something?" He continued to stare out the glass-paned windows instead of at the women to his left.

Andie looked down and noticed as though for the first time that she was undressed. She'd been in her bath when she noticed the flap of her satchel unlatched, and she'd tossed a drying cloth around her as she interrogated the women. Obviously it had fallen down somewhere. She bent over and picked it up, sending a few specks of water and soap soaking into the wooden floor. Before stepping back into her bathwater, she shot another glance at Archer. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. It's just skin, you know. Same as yours," she pointed out.

"Your skin is not the same as mine," He muttered, lightly touching the teapot and looking around the room at anything that was not his doctor.

"Is that why you're blushing?" she teased, sinking into the dissipating bubbles. She ducked her head under the water to rinse her hair and he held his answer until she sputtered to the surface again.

"Did your father ever teach you about modesty?"

She pursed her lips and pondered. "Yes he did but he also said that the human body is beautiful and nothing to be ashamed of." Picking up a small cloth and a bar of soap, she scrubbed quickly at her skin. "How's your body, by the way? Your ribs still giving you trouble?"

"I'm fine," he answered, feeling the ache intensify as if his bones knew they were being talked about and wanted to make themselves known.

"You're not fine," she told him. "You need to restrict your physical activity. Right now your bones are just cracked; if they break I don't have the resources to fix them, and it could lead to more serious issues. You should inform your tactical officer. He should know about your injuries before he plans an escape."

He refused to be drawn into a debate about it, and wandered around the room instead of answering. "Malcolm filled me in on what you've been up to. He said you found the guy I asked you to find."

"He's a king. Did you know that?"

"He was just a guy who needed help," Archer stated softly. "Will he be okay?"

"Too many ifs and maybes to tell," she admitted. Andie didn't sugarcoat it. "I didn't have time to create a specific medicine so I gave him a dose of general anti-venom. If he's not allergic, if they continue to treat him as directed, if he doesn't get an infection, if there isn't some unforeseen something, then he might possibly be fine." She listed the things that could go wrong matter-of-factly.

"I wish you hadn't broken in like thieves," he remarked.

"There wasn't time to go through the front door," she answered shortly feeling her temper rise.

"Thanks for going anyway," he reiterated. He didn't want to concentrate on why it was so important to save this one old man, who hadn't really wanted assistance in the first place. It was just something that needed to be done. That king hadn't reminded him of Emory in the least. Nope, he didn't. For a moment he considered taking a nap before dinner.

"I didn't realize I had a choice. Tucker told me I was summoned."

Archer couldn't decide if he liked her blunt way of speaking or if he would prefer that she defer to him. He didn't feel like wondering about that either. They had much bigger fish to fry; namely how to get out of this dangerous situation. "Your room is nicer than ours," he noted.

"It's not nicer; it's just crowded with stuff," she retorted, making splashy sounds behind the folding partition that shielded the bathing area from prying eyes. There was a four-poster bed set between two windows. There was a table and four chairs for dining, along with a settee and another pair of chairs near the fire. There were several free standing wardrobes pressed against the walls, containing garments and blankets and other odds and ends. All of the items were of good quality, even if they were well-worn with age and somewhat fragile to touch.

"We just have a bed and a couch," he murmured, looking around. It was like taking a walk through a historical museum, except in this museum you could touch things. There was also a bathtub in his quarters, like the one in Andie's. It was made from the same gray stone as the castle walls and was deep enough to sit fully immersed in water. Jon had been surprised that a turn of a lever on the wall had presented not just cold water, straight from the falls, no doubt, but also a lever that poured out steaming hot water. A round button plugged the drain at the bottom. It was as close to a modern bathtub as he'd ever seen. And it was here in this monument to history. He shook his head to clear it as he heard more splashy sounds coupled with a bare foot slapping down on the floor. He silently marveled at the fastest bath he'd ever known a woman to take.

The knock at the door had them both pausing in their actions. "I'll get it," Archer offered. He opened the portal to find Lieutenant Reed on the other side, who tried not to look surprised that the captain was answering. "Come on in," Jon gestured with one hand.

Malcolm stepped inside and looked around, catching a quick sight of Andie as she pulled fabric over her head. He caught Archer looking at him with a knowing grin.

"The doctor says the human body is a beautiful thing," Jon teased.

"The doctor would certainly claim to know, sir," Reed responded. He lowered his voice in order to keep the doctor from listening. "We are surrounded by steep cliffs on all sides, sir. Nobody can get in or get out except through the front gates.

"Well, that's just stupid," Andie snorted, coming around the partition while pulling a small comb through her tangled wet hair. "Even mice know enough to have two entrances!"

"These people clearly don't," Malcolm retorted sharply, annoyed at being overheard. "We're stuck here for as long as they continue to buy your story of being the Chosen One, so be careful. There's no way out."

"Wasn't my story!" Andie sassed back, tossing the comb down and shaking her hair out to catch the heat from the fireplace. "Which one of you sweet young cupcakes wants to play lady's maid?" She demonstrated her need by struggling to reach the open bindings on her gown.

"What happened to your maids?" Reed inquired.

"Don't ask," the doctor snorted.

Reed snuck a hopeful look at Archer, who grinned devilishly back. Clearly the captain was not gong to be the 'sweet, young cupcake.' Malcolm stepped forward and started to pull tight the lacings on the side of her bodice underneath her arms. Underneath he could see the edges of a gray chemise. The kirtle itself was made of periwinkle silk with plum ribbons lacing the edges together to fit the bodice to the body. The sleeves opened up at the elbow, allowing the fitted sleeves of the chemise to be seen underneath. Malcolm laced those delicate ribbons as well. Over the top of both layers went a sleeveless surcoat in gunmetal gray, embroidered with wine-colored threads and decorated with beads. It laced together just under her bosoms; Andie managed those ribbons without aid, to Malcolm's relief. When she was finished she looked like a lady who belonged in the medieval court.

The effect was somewhat spoiled when she sat down, hiked up her skirts and started pulling on her heavy black work boots.

"Andie!" the captain weakly protested, nodding at the matching gray slippers

"I can't very well strap my knife to my thigh! I'd never get to it under all these skirts!" Andie protested. "So it stays in my boots and my boots stay on my feet! Otherwise it gets tucked into my bosom and everybody will notice it there!" She stood up with a huff and looked at both men, who struggled to remain composed and not look like they were laughing at her. "You look nice," she noted with some surprise before disappearing behind the thin folding partition again.

Archer was dressed in a bliaut of deep purple that brought out the green of his eyes. Underneath the wide skirt of his tunic he wore gray knickers and a pair of tall black boots. Reed wore a black doublet over a white linen shirt and a dark pair of trousers. The somber colors set off his dark hair and pale skin. He had also managed to raid an armory somewhere and sported a long sword fastened on one hip and a dagger with a jeweled hilt tucked into his waistband; both of which were somewhat hidden under his cape which swirled around his calves. He offered the dagger to Archer and waited for the doctor to return.

She reappeared a short time later, fussing with the fitted sleeves which looked bulkier to Reed. The lieutenant didn't say a word, just held out her heavy cloak until she turned so he could rest it on her shoulders. The rich purple of the borrowed cloak emphasized the strawberry streaks in her hair that had been coiled up into a messy knot and secured with a black ribbon. "Let's get this dinner over with," the doctor sighed heavily. Archer opened the door and followed his crewmen through it.

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow  
Day Five: Evening_

He'd been dreaming a lot lately. He also supposed that wasn't unusual. The shrink who'd evaluated everyone who came back from the Expanse said that re-entering society might be hard and he could expect things like strange dreams and feelings of isolation. He just wasn't sure these were the kinds of dreams that shrink had intended.

_There was a log cabin that seemed familiar. He'd been here recently. That pretty woman in the floral bonnet wanted to see something. They turned on a monitor. In the dream world the use of electricity in this primitive society didn't seem strange. The monitor replayed the last couple of days, speeding through the events that he could remember like a movie on fast forward. There was a fight with men on horseback and then another scuffle in the forest. There was a prison and an earthen fighting ring. He was running and his chest hurt. That large animal snarled out of the dark and pounced; his heart pounded with fear. The woman in the bonnet reached out a hand and brushed her fingers over his sweaty forehead and he stopped being afraid._

Trip Tucker woke up slowly, feeling weightless and slightly dreamy. It took time for reality to sink back into his tired consciousness and he lay quietly, feeling the deep cold taking precedence over the warm summer sky of his dream, feeling the aches outweigh that weightlessness of the dream, and hearing far-off sounds cutting into his personal memory. He was fully awake now, feeling the hard cushion of the medical bunk and smelling wood smoke and hearing the distant murmur of human voices that were so different from the scratchy sounds of the alien inhabitants.

_There was no point lying abed when there's work to be done_, his mother always said, usually just before she shooed her children out the door on a beautiful Saturday morning and started cleaning. Trip took his mother's long ago advice to heart and swung his legs over the edge of his bed, shivering a little in the chilly air. His chattering teeth must have alerted someone.

A head poked through the door. "Good evening, Commander," chirped Liz Cutler. "Stay where you are. I've got something for you." She ducked back out of his sight and he wiped a hand over his face, trying to release the sense of comfortable disquiet that the dream had wrought. When she returned, she had her arms full. Liz set down an empty basin and a clean pair of underthings. She pulled a towel from around her shoulders and a sliver of soap from her pocket. Lastly she deposited a pair of gray coveralls, the plain ones that were kept for the lower decks, on a shipping case that was being used as a table. "Commander T'Pol has instructed you to bathe before joining her for dinner. She'll wait so take your time." Before Tucker could say anything else, she slipped away again, this time returning with a steaming pot and a hygiene kit. She deposited them in front of Tucker with a smile before exiting again, closing the round door as she went.

Tucker could now see the Vulcan letters left on this side of the door by a heavy marker. He couldn't read them, but he could recognize the handwriting. He pondered the reasons the doctor might be defacing the walls in here, as he poured the hot water into the basin and determined, during his sponge bath, that she must have done it just before he told her to hurry up when he took her away from all this at the captain's orders. No wonder T'Pol hadn't looked too concerned at his absence, he mused. He still thought it was strange that that Archer had just taken off in the night. The captain hadn't said anything during their adventure but Trip could tell he was upset about something. He'd known the man too long to be taken in with his authoritarian tone saying he was fine. There was nothing to do about it now; not until they could rescue the captain from whatever fire he'd fallen into this time. The best way to do that was with a shuttle pod or a transporter pad, and the only place to find those things was on board his ship. And the only way to get back to the ship was to redefine gravity and propulsion systems and then take on about a thousand sharp-toothed critters determined to eat him before he succeeded in pulling a miracle out of his ass.

In other words he had a lot to do and he couldn't afford to rest any longer. He finished pulling up the zipper on the plain uniform and shoved his feet into his well-worn boots. Somebody had washed and polished them, he noted, feeling somewhat better to be spotless in spite of his chilly cleansing. His face was free of stubble and his teeth had been cleaned and he couldn't smell his own body odor any more. His stomach rumbled though and he opened the door, pulling his blanket around his shoulders in lieu of a thermal jacket. He nodded at Cutler and started across the campsite.

Hoshi Sato fell into step with him. "You're going to dinner with T'Pol?" she inquired, tugging on Porthos' leash.

"Yeah, I've been summoned," he answered with a weary smile.

"T'Pol's been a little tense lately," Hoshi informed him, lowering her voice to avoid being overheard. "Keep an eye on her and tell me what you think. Maybe I'm just imagining things." The linguist pretended to glance around the camp as though carefree in order to hide the depths of her concern in the fading daylight.

"Sure," Trip agreed, thinking that the Comm. officer sounded a little on edge too. "What do you mean tense?"

"She's been...Oh, you'll know it if you see it," she skipped over the explanation. "It's good to have you back, Commander." Her smile was noticeably brighter as she squeezed his good arm in comradely fashion before peeling off and heading for the Mess Tent.

Tucker was left alone to knock on the hull of the escape pod. He'd been in T'Pol's quarters on board _Enterprise_ many times, but it was a different thing to enter her private quarters while in plain view of every pair of curious eyes on board. He snuck one last look around the encampment and thought he caught the same look of apprehension on several faces that he'd seen on Hoshi's. Then again, maybe they were just gossiping about the private meeting between the commanders. The quick command to enter cut short his perusal.

Inside he found there was only one small lamp lit, casting shadows on the walls. The space was very confining when he stepped inside, but the solid walls almost guaranteed that they could speak freely without being overheard. Two trays were waiting on the bunk. The female rose gracefully to greet him when he entered and she gestured at him to take a seat at the end of the bunk. There was no place else to put your feet up. Trip sat on the end of the bunk, with his back against the wall, and she sat at the other end of the mattress in similar fashion. They both placed their trays on their laps and exhaled in relief at the heat that was offered by the warm plates.

"You're looking better," T'Pol began, tasting her broth. He had been beaten several times but they hadn't done any permanent damage. The team in the Medical Tent had told her that, as had her meditative dreams.

"I have some ideas on how to get us out of this," Tucker told her without preamble.

His voice was very serious when he spoke and she responded with the same gravitas. "I would really like to hear those ideas," she confirmed.

The engineer devoured his dinner while waving his fork around to emphasize points to his attentive companion. There was something about this meeting that tickled the back of Trip's mind, something he'd seen recently or maybe something he'd dreamed. He'd been dreaming a lot lately. Shaking his head to brush away the most recent dream with the mysterious bonneted woman who wanted to walk through his psyche, Tucker slid straight into the discussion of how to use Andie's high-octane liquor and the broken walls of the pods that were damaged in the fall to outline his plan. She acknowledged that Hess and Truax had taken up work on the Escape Pod Project and had some interesting ideas. As the hour grew later, talk drifted into the events of the past few days, although T'Pol left out her brief flare of temper and Tucker skimmed over the beatings he'd suffered. It was a more pleasant meal than either had shared in some time, and the simple act of social graces was very soothing.

"We will begin in the morning," T'Pol determined when the last of their meal was consumed.

"I don't think we have a moment to lose," Trip protested. It was hard to feel urgent when he was warm and comfortable with a stomach fuller than it had been in a couple of days, but he had to do it. It had nothing to do with how he missed their companionship or the simple pleasure of being with her. It was all about the job. He had to get back to work, sooner rather than later.

"You've suffered some injuries," T'Pol informed him. "You will rest in order to maximize your abilities. You will begin in the morning." She was quiet but firm. The thought that somebody beat the gentle engineer made her seethe, and seething was not normal. It took extra concentration to keep her respiration steady and even.

"I'm fine!" he protested. It was the same thing the captain had said, and the same thing that Andie said whenever anyone asked about her. He could recognize that it would not be an effective term. "I didn't know you cared," he retorted with a small smile.

"I do," the Vulcan admitted.

Trip was surprised to find his mind making the matrimonial connection in the context of those two words. He'd stood by her at her wedding to another man. Suddenly the walls were too close as the rituals of dating became apparent in their platonic working dinner. "I'll see you in the morning then," he scooted off the bunk. He didn't see anything different about her demeanor; Hoshi must have been off the mark. Although that seemed unlikely as Sato was very perceptive.

"Bright and early," T'Pol agreed solemnly. She watched him go as she sat alone in her temporary quarters. Things would be different between them when they got back on board the ship. Things would be more like normal then. Normality was good, she told herself. She rose to return her tray to Chef.

* * *

_The Watchtower_

_Day Five: Evening_

There was only one exit in the corridor outside their rooms. There was a door at the end of the hall which led out onto an uncovered portion of walkway. At the end of the balcony was a set of stone stairs that led down into the courtyard. The main entrance to the Great Hall was in the middle of the building. Thankful for the heavy cloaks they all wore, each huddled inside their layers in the chilly evening air as the last of the day's meager light leeched out of the world and turned the giant gorge they overlooked into a valley of blood.

"What do you think? About a thousand meters?" Reed guessed, leaning far out over the edge and trying to peer through the gloom to the bottom.

"Don't fall down," Captain Archer cautioned. "I don't think we have the medical supplies to put you back together again if you tumble off."

"I wouldn't make that bet, sir," Malcolm denied, although he straightened up. "I'm certain that Dr. Andie has a host of medical instruments tucked up in her sleeves."

"A lady doesn't go to dinner armed to the teeth," Andie demurred, looking out at the sharp rock formation, looking for the moment, extremely delicate.

"You're not a lady; you're a doctor," Reed teased her.

"Good of you to notice," she snorted easily, dismissing her delicate face. She tore her gaze from the dizzying height at which they stood and turned to look at the sheer rock wall that rose on the other side of the fortress. Water spilled forth in a twinkling cascade from an unseen opening under their feet. "The water level's really dropped. They must have built this fortress directly on top of a rushing river."

"The river's dried up," Jon noted idly.

"Or else the aqueduct was sealed off," she countered. She knew that Reed had already filled Archer in on their escapades while she was busy with the villagers.

"I see you are finally dressed. Is it customary to keep your hostess waiting?" inquired a petulant voice. The trio turned to find Lady Sadiré waiting at the top of the stone stairs. There was no telling how long she'd been standing there listening in on their conversation.

"We were admiring the view," Archer filled in carefully.

"It is the best view of the entire valley," she admitted, seeming pleased at his compliment. "Don't you agree, Lady Andrea?" she demanded of her rival.

"It is very pleasant," Andie agreed, lifting her chin high. "Thank you for the borrowed gown. I hardly had to make any alterations."

"Alterations?" Sadiré looked offended. She brushed away the expression and replaced it with one of sweet concern. "I trust your man had time to make a complete survey of my castle?" She looked hard at Reed.

"Of course he did," Andie replied easily. There's not much to it. This castle is very quaint. It reminds me of my father's summer home on the banks of the Lake Kai. It was small...but charming."

"Your father's residence was near a lake?" Sadiré queried. There was something in her glittering eyes that told Andie she'd said something wrong. The strange reactions of the inhabitants where water was concerned might be an indicator.

"It's much different now, of course," Andie demurred vaguely. "You are lucky. Your stronghold must be very easy to heat in the winter."

"You have not seen my entire fortress. My Great Hall is bound to impress you. It's the oldest in the entire world. Shall we make our way to dinner?" Sadiré gestured with one arm. Her smile was tight, but she seemed determined to be gracious.

"May I escort you, my lady?" Archer offered his arm.

For a second Sadiré looked at it as thought it might be a snake, but that pleasant grin stretched across her features wiping away her hesitation. "You are very gallant, my lord," she accepted, placing her hand gingerly on top of Archer's.

"Lake Kai?" Malcolm pressed lightly.

"Oh, those summer nights!" Andie fanned her face with a dramatic sigh of delight.

"Be careful not to offer so many falsehoods that you can't keep track of them all," he warned her. "The best lies are the ones that are grounded in truth."

"I always tell the truth," Andie told him solemnly. "I am the Chosen One." She couldn't repress the giggle that the statement engendered.

Malcolm offered his arm to Andie with a mischievous grin, and she snorted playfully as she accepted it. They followed the other pair down the stairs, with Andie cursing mildly at the tricky maneuvers necessary to keep from tripping on the long hem of her skirt, and Malcolm stifling giggles at her clumsiness.

The Great Hall was all that its name implied. It was a large rectangular room, devoid of most of its furniture but sporting three fireplaces. Tapestries were hung along the walls to keep out the chill of the day, as well as to add artistic variety. Several guards loitered around the vacant areas. They looked curious at the newcomers, but nobody approached the humans. A U-shaped table had been set on a dais near the kitchen and Sadiré led her party in that direction. Andie forced Malcolm to dally, gazing at all the hangings and making Sadiré wait.

"What interesting tapestries!" the doctor exclaimed. Her voice echoed in the nearly empty room. "The simplicity of their stitching promises greatness when the seamstresses grow experienced!"

The Imminent Queen's teeth ground together at the backhanded compliment.

Archer shot the doctor a look meant to quell her attitude. He didn't know how successful he was; she continued to dawdle.

"What are you doing?" Malcolm hissed in her ear.

"Encouraging some smack talk," she whispered back. "Maybe she'll say something interesting."

"Maybe she'll kill you right now instead of possibly later," he reminded her.

Her lips puckered out in a precious pout. But she allowed him to urge her down the length of the room, and to pull out her chair. Lady Sadiré sat with her back to the kitchen, and overlooked the length of the hall. Andie sat to one side and wound up staring at a large tapestry on the wall. Reed pulled up a seat across from her; from there he could see both the entrances into the room. Archer sat next to Andie with a heavy sigh. Once they were seated it became obvious that Sadiré had placed her seat just an inch or two higher, in order to look down on her dining subjects. The mild power play just made Andie itch to smack her. She took her frustration out in other ways.

"This is your impressive hall? I was expecting something grander. This room is practically barren."

"The Watchtower was widely known for its hospitality, its imposing views and its immaculate tapestries." Sadiré looked way down her nose at Andie.

"That one's hung crooked," Andie noted, nodding at the hanging directly ahead of her.

"There's nothing wrong with that tapestry!"

"I'm sure the child who made it was very gifted."

My mother began that tapestry!" Sadiré bit out.

"It's very nice, Lady Sadiré," Jon Archer interjected, scowling the doctor. "She was very talented. Andie does a bit of sewing in her spare time too, when she doesn't let her mouth run away from her!"

"You allow your men to speak of you so inappropriately?" Sadiré taunted.

Andie shrugged. "I let his mouth run wild. His application of intellect often amuses me."

Jonathan choked on the mouthful of wine he'd just sipped but managed to swallow it before ejection could send it back across the table.

Malcolm hid his grimace behind a goblet and tried to figure out if Andie was in more danger from the woman on her right or the captain on her left. He didn't think Archer would be consoled that Andie was picking on someone else for a change. It seemed she made the time to attack all titled persons in her vicinity.

The first plates were brought from the adjacent kitchen by a familiar looking woman. She placed heavy gold plates in front of her visitors and shuffled back to the kitchen, her coarse face set in a permanent scowl. Sadiré lifted her silver service and dug into her meal.

"I'm surprised you do not employ a food taster," Andie commented, toying with her slab of meat gingerly. "That's very brave! My father was so powerful that somebody was always trying to poison him. You are so lucky to feel so safe in your own kingdom."

Sadiré squeaked in outrage, rising to the bait that she was unimportant in her own community.

Malcolm paused with his food halfway to his mouth wondering if that would be the remark that caused their hostess to plunge her dinner knife through the doctor's body.

The dark-haired woman set down her knife and turned a stern visage to her unwanted partner. "It is unfortunate that your father is not here to instill a sense of discipline in your men. Are you not at all concerned with the one that got away?"

Andie waved away the question indolently. "He'll turn up."

"Perhaps sooner than you expect!" Sadiré admitted brightly.

"Perhaps." Andie sniffed something on her plate and made a face before setting it down, refusing to please the woman by inquiring further, and, in fact, digging just a little more at her way of life. "Do all of your people seek your consent before taking actions on your behalf?"

"Nothing happens without my knowledge!" boasted the dark-haired woman.

"So it's you I should speak to about your maids pilfering my things while I bathed? It's a shoddy leader to allow her servants to behave so viciously toward guests."

"Nobody pilfers in my house!" The lines of anger were deepening the crevices around the woman's mouth.

"I caught them at it. I told them I would punish them if it happened again, but clearly it is you to whom I should direct my unhappiness."

"I thought ruffians in the forest took all your worldly possessions. You should not have anything left of value," Sadiré pointed out through clenched teeth.

"My things belong to me. Only I can authorize their usage, no matter how paltry their intrinsic value." Were the circumstances different, Malcolm would swear she sounded bored. Andie actually looked down at her hands and picked at debris under the fingernails.

"Pity you don't take such interest in your fleeing man," Sadiré taunted her again.

"He'll turn up," Andie insisted. "He always comes back to me."

The refusal to question the meaning of Sadiré's words annoyed her. "Perhaps he'll turn up soon. I have sent several hunters after him on your behalf."

That snapped Andie out of her apathetic tone. "If he's harmed, you will answer for his injuries," Andie threatened lightly.

"I don't allow people to get away from me that easily!"

"He got away from me, not you," Andie pointed out.

There was a clatter at the door. Another familiar woman, this one in purple silks, came running up to the table to whisper in Sadiré's ear. The Queen nodded and the servant slipped back, wringing her hands and looking rather ill.

Andie considered Sadiré, who seemed quite happy to pick up her service and begin to dine. Frankly Andie would rather cut her tongue out than ask that atrocious woman what had happened. Instead she turned her attention to the woman who had been attempting to take her data pad less than an hour ago. "What is your name?" she demanded imperiously.

"Her name is Berthelde," Sadiré answered, looking like she'd just swallowed canary instead of whatever game decorated her plate. "She is my personal servant."

"She is one who was pilfering my things earlier," Andie huffed. "It seems that not only do you secrete thieves in your house, but they work quite closely to you!"

"Do not be concerned with my staff," Sadiré just about purred. "You should be more concerned with the impending arrival of King Galen's envoy."

"Who in the what?" Andie blinked.

"King Galen's envoy has just left the Renaisterre Castle and will arrive shortly. I'm surprised that you did not sense their coming with your special powers, oh Chosen One."

The doctor leaned in quite close. "I think you and I both know that my distinction as the Chosen One is something that you have placed on me and not something that is mine."

"Yes," The woman was quite pleased now. "Don't forget that all the power that you have comes from me. You will treat me with the respect due me as the future queen or you will find your usefulness and your life at an end."

Whispers had spread through the group of men that were scattered throughout the Hall. Captain Merwyn finally appeared through the door and approached the table, looking quite ill at ease.

"My lady, I was summoned," the soldier explained, not knowing whether to look at the dark haired women or the blonde and causing Sadiré to seethe with frustration at the division.

"An armed escort arrives from the castle. Prepare the Tower for aggression." That was the only explanation that the glittering-eyed woman got out before the Great Hall emptied. Men loitering around the fireplace at the other end scurried out the door, followed by Merwyn. Only the foursome remained seated at their table.

"I see they hang on your every word," Andie drawled with laughter.

Malcolm sprang to his feet. He had almost taken a step when he heard Andie's words. He changed direction and wound up kneeling at her feet. "My lady? May I?"

The doctor seemed amused. "Yes, yes! Go play with the others!" She waved him away as Reed took off. She turned her head to the captain. "You may follow him if you wish," she offered generously.

"I'm afraid my attempts at intellect might amuse them," Archer grumbled.

"I'm sure you'll be fine," she grinned. Archer shoved back his chair and stomped toward the portal. Andie shoved her chair across the floor with a sharp squeaking sound. "Are you coming, Lady Sadiré?"

Sadiré pouted, pushing her food around with her utensil. "They will sort it out."

"Do you always leave matters of state to someone else to sort out? No wonder your people came looking for me."

With a screech, Sadiré pushed aside her plate and shoved back her chair. She was forced to scurry in order to overtake Andie before they exited the double doors and headed out the door to see what fresh hell waited.


	15. Chapter 15

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 15

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Five: After dinner_

Tucker plopped his body down on the log between Hess and Truax. "So where are we at?" he asked affably.

For a moment both women looked guilty as though they were caught at something they shouldn't be doing. They were whispering together as they huddled at a fire some distance from the other crewmen and they were surprised to be interrupted. "I thought you were supposed to rest tonight?" Hess asked point blank, without bothering to pretend she didn't know what he meant. Trip always liked that about her; she could be sweet as sugar, but she knew when to cut the crap.

"I had a nap this afternoon," Trip pointed out. "Besides if we get all the talking done tonight, we can start on the problem first thing tomorrow."

Lieutenant Barbra Truax leaned forward to get a good look at Lieutenant Commander Shani Hess. They seemed to confer with their eyebrows for a moment before the women leaned back and sighed. "Remember the _Somraw_?" Barbra asked. At his blank look she continued. "It was the Raptor-class vessel trapped in the gravity well of a Class-9 gas giant in our first year?"

"Oka-ay," Trip nodded, clearly clueless.

"Lieutenant Reed fired off their torpedoes in order to ride the shock wave into a higher orbit?" the armory officer went on to prompt his memory before blowing on her cupped hands to warm them.

"Right!" Trip finally remembered. "That Klingon woman threatened to take over our ship while she was still tied down in Sickbay." He considered Truax's words and felt the need to point something out. "We don't have any torpedoes to detonate so we can ride the shockwave out of orbit."

"Hey, Commander," Shani interjected from his other side. "Remember that movie you made us watch about time travel?"

"There were too many of them," Lieutenant Truax muttered with a weary sigh, rubbing her head.

"It's the one where some kid travels in some ridiculously complicated sports car with a fuel capacitor made from coffee grounds?" Hess prompted again.

"Flux capacitor," Trip answered. Movie trivia was something he remembered better than Klingon names. "It was _fueled_ with coffee grounds and the car was a DeLorean. _Back to the Future_ was the movie and there were only three in the original series." He considered Hess with dubious amusement. "You want me to build you a DeLorean?"

"In that third film of the original series they made a train go faster by detonating three special chemical logs in the steam engine," Hess reminded him.

Trip's head whipped from one woman to the other like he was watching an intense tennis match. "You want to build three special fuel logs to detonate in order to ride the shockwave out of orbit? You're crazy," he announced, but the frown line didn't disappear from his forehead. "We don't have anything to create special fuel logs."

"That's not exactly true," Truax shuffled her feet and peered around at Hess.

Hess took the plunge with assistance from a deep breath. "There are several components around camp that can be used to create an explosion sufficient enough to boost us higher when the atmosphere gets heavy." She took a deep breath and bolstered herself with a mouthful of coffee. "The heating components in the pods, the directional thrusters, and the...uh...re-sequencers all use a certain amount of plasma and other materials that could be used to form high-yield explosives."

"Now hold on a minnit!" Trip held up a hand.

"Other parts of the pods, such as the electrical wires, can be utilized to create detonators that could be controlled with something as simple and small as a data pad," Truax jumped in.

"Hold the phone!"

"We can strip the parts down and install them in the selected pod in a matter of hours," Hess went on.

"But...!"

"Well, maybe more like a day or two," Truax tweaked the timeline.

Tucker tried to wrap his head around this scheme. "You expect us to remove the heaters and destroy the re-sequencers, both of which are things that are instrumental in our continued survival down here, in order to paste them into a shuttle pod so that you can blow them up, potentially killing several crewmen in the process, in an attempt to get of the atmosphere?" It actually sounded crazier when he said it out loud.

"Yeah," Truax nodded.

"Sure," Hess agreed too. Both women looked a little sheepish.

Trip took a very deep breath. He could see why they were still whispering together and hadn't taken this to T'Pol. The idea was extreme to say the least. Some might call it crazy. Of course, sometimes crazy was all you had to work with. "We'd have to strip the pod down to the barest minimum weight allowances in order to compensate for the hull distress. And offer the pilots a big shot of whiskey before they go. Possibly a blindfold or a cigarette," he teased, but the frown never left his face.

Both women sighed with relief. If he was joking, then he probably thought the idea had merit.

"I want simulations that show a pretty good chance of survival before we start, so you two better hit the books tonight!" he told them firmly. In the morning he'd have to sell this plan to T'Pol and he needed some beauty sleep too. They all three shared an anticipatory look before getting up from their seats and heading back to their terminals.

* * *

_The Watchtower_

_Day Five: Evening_

Lady Sadiré and Lady Andrea jostled for the primary position as they hurried through both courtyards and up the stone steps to the foremost wall walk where the men were gathered. Although they peered into the darkness, there wasn't anything to be seen. The night was still.

"Where's the envoy?" Andie asked, trying not to sound breathless.

"It will take them some time to traverse the land from the castle to the bridge," Merwyn explained curtly.

"Then what makes you think they're coming?" Andie demanded of her hostess.

"I am a powerful seer," Sadiré explained with a sly smile. "I see all. I know all."

Andie opened her mouth to respond to that, and Archer stepped in front of her, cutting off what sure to have been a less than whole-hearted agreement of that statement.

"Maybe we could just offer some sort of truce before they get here?" Archer suggested.

"What makes you think they will be preparing for war?" Captain Merwyn asked in confusion.

"It's been that kind of week," Jon assured him dryly.

"Of course there will be a war party!" Sadiré insisted. "King Galen does not recognize my authority of the Watch Tower! He has ignored entreaties for peace and he brings nothing but destruction! But he will not bring war tonight."

"How long ago were these entreaties?" Archer inquired carefully.

"A short time ago," she answered with a wave of her hand. "He is foolish if he does not see what is meant to be!"

"What is meant to be?" Andie glowered, pushing out from behind the captain.

"The Watchtower was one of the great Towers of the World! It will be so again under my rule!"

"What about your people?" Andie looked over the landscape, whose outline was disappearing in the fading dim light.

"They will be safe behind the walls of the Watchtower!" Sadiré proclaimed regally. "I will protect them."

"I meant, what about the people in the village?" Andie seethed. "What happens to them when your king and his foresworn entreaties advance near the peasantry there?

Reed and Archer both exchanged glances before looking at Sadiré and Merwyn.

"It's quite likely His Majesty's men will pass the village by," Merwyn filled in with a quick look at Sadiré for confirmation. "He is only interested in the Tower."

"It's likely?" Andie repeated in doubt. "It's likely those folks will get trampled under his feet if he's in a bad mood! We need to do something!"

"What would you have us do, Lady Andrea?" Merwyn queried. "We haven't the manpower to counter the measure that Galen would send after us."

"There will be no attack!" Sadiré insisted. "Galen's envoy will only remit his message to us. We will seal the gates of the Watchtower to be safe, but nobody will die tonight."

"I'm not keen on waiting out a siege, sir," Malcolm muttered to the captain. He grimaced. "There may be a scuffle, sir. We'll have to be prepared for anything."

"So what happens when he gets here?" Archer inquired further of their hostess. "Shouldn't you be prepared in case this letter you're expecting doesn't arrive, but a war party does?"

"The king does not send an army; he sends an envoy! I have seen the future! This is where it all comes to pass!" Sadiré maintained. Her smile was suddenly chilly. "Perhaps it is time you earned your keep," she said, turning her attention to the other female who was uncharacteristically silent.

"What do you have in mind?" Andie inquired, her voice just a shade frostier that the heart of a glacier.

"Your concern is for the people. Reassure them." A smile played at the corners of her mouth, the way that a cat might play with a mouse before munching.

"And tell them what? That we're about to be sealed inside this vault until it becomes our tomb?"

"You'll think of something appropriate," Sadiré assured her, grabbing the other woman's arm and shoving her in the direction of the courtyard. "Or you will cease to be useful to me."

Malcolm took an unconscious step toward the pair; certain that the physician would fly into a rage and toss the woman who threatened her off the stone walk. Today her habit of surprising him when he least expected it continued its custom.

After yanking her arm free of its confines under the alien's hands, Andie lowered her head docilely and turned to face the crowd gathering together on the ground beneath them. For just a moment she seemed at a loss for words. Reed could see the moment inspiration struck; she lifted her head and her eyes glittered. When she began, her voice carried to the throng. "Citizens of the Watch Tower!" she began. "Lady Sadiré has seen His Majesty, King Galen, sending a group of men toward this fortress. She assures me that he will not harm any of you. Take heart and we will stand together."

"You sound skeptical of the sights Lady Sadiré has seen," somebody from down below called up.

Sadiré sucked air in through her nose in anticipation of treachery and Archer would not have been surprised to see steam erupt from those nostrils. Her fears were quieted when the physician continued.

"Lady Sadiré is as she always was," Andie replied, stepping carefully down the stone steps. Reed noticed she didn't stumble once over the long hem. "If she held your confidence in her ability yesterday, you can continue to hold your confidence today. I am merely the one who was chosen to serve you, which I will do to the best of my ability." She laid hands on the people closest to her, brushing their shoulders and touching their hands. Some reached out to her; most held back.

"But the king rides against the Tower?" worried one old woman with hands cracked from repeated washings.

"Take heart, my friend. We will stand together," Andie smiled, laying the back of her hand against the woman's cheek. "I need a ride," she added, without raising her voice. Her request didn't carry to the landing above.

In moments a stable boy brought forth one of the slender creatures that mostly looked a horse. Of course, it kind of looked like a goat too. "What a lovely and spirited horse!" Andie remarked. The stable boy looked confused.

"This is Lady Sadiré's _esther_," he stammered.

"Is it now? Oh, excellent!" Andie responded with a Cheshire smile. "Seal the gate behind me," she told him and the young man stepped back.

When Andie had moved away and the attention was on her speech, Reed had touched Archer's arm to hold him back slightly from the dark-haired woman intent on her rival below. "Did you hear it, sir?"

"Did I hear what, Malcolm?" Archer inquired irritably. He watched Andie walk among the crowd.

"At dinner, the lady said we were attacked in the forest, but I don't believe you ever said where we were allegedly attacked."

"Maybe Nelek told her," Archer suggested, taking his eyes off the scene below. It was unnerving how gentle and calm his doctor was for the general populace when she held the leaders of this world in such vicious contempt.

"He was careful to keep the location from everyone earlier, sir," Malcolm pointed out. "Maybe this woman is behind out attackers."

"She has the right to defend...oh, hell!" Archer cut off his words as one of that same gentle populace the doctor was inclined to protect brought the doctor a saddled mount.

In the time it took her to swing a leg over the beast and kick her heels to spur the creature toward the main entrance, those watching above made to move as one toward the steps and got caught up in a bottle neck on the steep stairs. Reed ignored the knot of people and took advantage of the lack of guardrails to leap lightly down onto a stack of crates and from there, leap to the ground. Archer followed him, cursing quietly at the effort and at the woman who was a thorn in his side.

"Damnit, Andie!" Jon shouted. "Does she think she's going to stop the envoy by herself?" His hands tore at his hair.

"Oh, that's not a good idea!" Malcolm expressed.

"No kidding! We have to go after her!" Archer signaled the stable boy to bring a second mount.

"Surely you don't believe that I will let all of you just walk out of my castle after I've gone to such lengths to put you under my protection?" Sadiré's voice carried down as she slipped down the steps to the courtyard calmly. Merwyn left the group of soldiers he was counseling and stepped to his lady's side, placing a hand of warning on his sword hilt, ready to back her up.

"We can't just let her go off on her own like that!" Archer sputtered, mindful of the silent menace.

"I will send troops of my own," the woman mentioned, waving a hand to summon another guard.

"She needs help now, Captain!" Reed insisted. He swung up on the back of the beast that was just brought out, thankful for all those summers spent on those ridiculous hunting parties with his cousins for the practiced seat he held while the animal pranced around. He waited for Archer to wave his hand in encouragement before kicking his mount into action and speeding away through the portcullis that came down with a clang seconds after he passed through it.

"You will, of course, wait here with me, Captain," Sadiré told Archer, slipping her arm through his. "I think Lady Andrea will be encouraged to come home to retrieve you."

"And if she doesn't?" Archer asked, feeling a weight in the pit of his stomach. Sometimes he thought the doctor wouldn't cross the street to spit on him if he were on fire.

"Then I won't have any need for an extra guard, will I?" Sadiré purred. Her hands were like ice he could feel through the thin material of his tunic.

The captain glared at the slender woman and watched the heavy wooden doors swinging shut on the outside world, wondering if he would ever seen his companions again.

* * *

_Village Road_

_Day Five: Nightfall_

The beast beneath her lurched more than her previous steeds had done, although when traveling by water mammal, which is how she'd learned to ride, the lurching was softened by the splash of water. It was too late to halt her reckless trek, so she just tightened her knees against the animal's sides and squared her shoulders. There was a decidedly quiet thud against the ground with each hoof. It was a lovely night for a race across dangerous and unknown terrain around the sharp and narrow bend that led to the village; the atmosphere was clearer than it had been, and the air was cold. She was secretly thrilled with the adventure. Soon the sound of hooves hitting the ground had doubled.

When the dirt track widened into a flat plain another beast came alongside to run neck and neck with her. Its rider blended in with the dark night, leaving only the thin line of his mouth to stand out from his pale face to indicate his state of mind. They were divided by the communal garden as they plunged through the main street of the village but they drew closer together again on the other side. The animals tossed their heads nervously as _ktiryas_ from the underground pens screeched at the thunder of animals racing past the fighting ring. Just as they passed the arena and with the bridge looming up ahead, the dark rider reached out a hand and caught the leather rein, drawing up short and halting the progress of both riders with ease.

Andie nearly tumbled off the front of her horse as it slowed to a sudden stop. Leaning forward, she clutched the soft fur of its mane in her hands and hoped for the best. Then it was over and she was still atop her charger. She congratulated herself silently until that hand reached up from the ground and dragged her down to her feet.

Lieutenant Reed was very angry. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing tearing off in the night by yourself?"

"Go back, Reed! I can handle this!" Andie snapped breathlessly, still a little thrilled by the ride and resenting Reed for bringing her back to earth.

"I'm the security officer, remember? It's my job to handle this!" he protested.

"Then go secure the castle or guard the captain! Whatever you want!"

"You are also part of the crew, and protecting you falls under my job description! What did you think you were going to do once you got to the bridge?"

"I don't know! I'll burn that bridge when I come to it!"

"_Cross_ that bridge! You don't _burn_ a bridge until after you've _crossed_ it!"

Andie stopped yelling. She smiled. Reed cringed inwardly even though he knew what was coming. "Unless you're trying to stop a crossing!" she beamed. "Got a match?"

"I'm pretty certain the wood of the bridge has been treated with something to keep it from rotting in the weather," Reed suggested wearily. "You'll need something more than a match."

"Ooh! I've got something!" she snapped her fingers and reached behind her, pulling the surgical cautery from...somewhere. He had seen her get dressed! Where did she hide that thing?

Maybe he didn't want to know where.

"Damnit, Andie!" he sighed. "I thought we talked about this! You are not allowed to plan rescues without me!"

"This isn't a rescue," she pointed out. "It's destruction of public property. I never agreed to let you be part of that!"

The matter-of-fact way that she pointed that out made Malcolm bite his lip. It just wouldn't do to encourage her by snickering. "Promise me you will include me in all future actions for the betterment _and_ destruction of mankind!" He demanded sternly.

That familiar scowl marred her expression before her smile blinded him. "Mankind? Absolutely I do!" she swore solemnly.

Reed was sure she'd just found a loophole somewhere, but he didn't have time to worry about it. "We're going to have to go back to the village," he told her taking her arm and escorting her back the way they'd just come.

"But the bridge is that way!" she protested. "And the riders will be here soon!"

"I need a few things," he announced curtly.

"Like what?" she questioned, hurrying alongside him.

"Charcoal, potassium chlorate, something to use as a fuse," he listed quickly.

"We're making gunpowder?" she queried with a wrinkle in her forehead.

"It's a special blend, my own personal...You recognize the chemical components of gunpowder off the top of your head?" Now it was his turn to question. Even his sister couldn't tell him that, and he knew that she'd been drilled on the formation of gunpowder by their father when they were kids, as part of a history lesson.

"I had an interesting childhood," she muttered, walking faster to leave him behind.

"That must have been some boarding school," Malcolm remarked, lengthening his stride to keep up.

"They had a comprehensive chemistry program," she murmured, stopping at the door he pointed out. Hiking up her skirts, she lifted a leg and prepared to kick the door down.

"What are you doing?" Reed grabbed her arm.

"We're going in, right?" Andie pointed out as though it should be evident.

Reed reacted with a dour look before reaching out his hand and rapping sharply on the wood. There was no answer. He knocked a second time a little louder than the first.

"See?" She lifted her foot again but had to drop her skirts when the door suddenly creaked open. A mousy looking man stood peering out fearfully into the darkness. His even mousier wife peered over his shoulder.

Malcolm realized he had no idea what to say.

Andie was, of course, not at a loss for words. "Hi!" she greeted the man and his wife brightly. "We haven't been formally introduced. I'm the Chosen One. You mind if we come in? Thanks!" She cheerfully patted his shoulder as she pushed her way past the pair, and Malcolm struggled to look composed as he followed with what he hoped was a respectful expression.

The cottage was small; just one room. There was a fireplace on one wall and a rudimentary bed frame covered with thin blankets nearby. There was a well-worn table in the center of the room, containing bits of sewing supplies and what looked like a whetstone. There was also a clay wheel in the corner and a bucket of mud next to a modest stack of half-finished pots. Upon his initial inspection of the village this morning, Reed had noticed this was the potter's hut, and hoped they wouldn't mind assisting him now.

Malcolm immediately headed for the wide table and pulled several small leather bags out of his doublet, trying to keep his actions discreet from the villagers behind him. When he untied the leather thongs that held them closed, Andie could see several kinds of powder in them. One was red; she guessed it was phosphorous. Another was yellow; obviously it was sulfur.

Adding the requested small container of the potassium chlorate to the pile from…somewhere under her cloak, Andie smirked. "You have deep pockets. When did you hide all that?"

"If you don't mind, I'd like to take half a dozen small clay pots," Malcolm directed his question over his shoulder at the pair who waited by the door. He turned to Andie. "See if you can find something to seal them." He removed a coil of silky thread from a different pocket. "I had time to explore while you bathed. I found an apothecary's workspace." He made use of a nearby wooden spoon to start measuring amounts and carefully scraping them into gentle piles while keeping his back to the silent couple.

"That would be Lady Sadiré's table," the male villager spoke up in a rough and gravelly voice. In spite of Reed's lowered tone, the silence in the hut had carried their voices to the pair who hadn't moved from the door since it had been closed. The man had his arm wrapped around his wife and they just held each other tightly for protection. They couldn't seem to decide whether to be fearful of the new pair or just curious.

Andie paused. "She's a chemist?" she inquired, turning from her selection of clay pots in the corner.

"Her mother was an accomplished herb woman," the female explained with some confusion in her equally coarse tone.

"How did an herb woman get to be Queen?" Andie inquired setting down the urns on the table and turning to face the villagers, putting on her most pleasant tone.

Both villagers squirmed. "Her father was the Tower steward." The man spoke in low tones.

Reed paused in his mixing. "He was a steward? Not a king?" He continued mixing his powders, muttering under his breath. "No wonder nobody salutes her correctly."

The villagers were very uncomfortable now.

"Where is the steward now?" Andie asked gently.

"He's dead. He fell off the Tower a few months ago," the man answered with his head bowed.

"He was a good man," the woman added, squeezing her husband's arm.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Andie mourned. She nudged a candle closer to Malcolm, that he might use it to heat tallow to seal his packages, but Reed just sucked in his breath and moved the open flame further away from his concoction.

Reed interrupted. "You wouldn't happen to have some extra lamp wicks lying around, would you?"

The man reluctantly stepped away from his wife and pulled out a skein of braided silks soaked in oil. "You don't intend to attack the Lady of the Tower with this, do you?"

"No," replied the tactical officer. "The king is sending an envoy and I'm hoping to delay him somewhat."

"You're attacking the king? You mustn't!" the woman cried out, actually rushing forward with her hands out.

"Not the king, the envoy," Andie explained. "We're not attacking them; we're just slowing them down until we can be certain they mean no harm to Sadiré." She fondled one of the small urns, holding it up in front of the suddenly anxious woman. "These are wonderful," she said, distracting the woman's nervousness by studying the details sculpted on the sides. The designs looked familiar; she wondered where she might have seen something like it recently.

"My wife makes them," the male villager offered tersely. "We trade the containers for other supplies. It's...it's been a hard season." He looked hard at Andie. "They say you are the Chosen One. Can you do...something?"

Andie's eyes widened. For once she was speechless. Their small hut, their meager supplies all told a tale of destitution. "I...can't," she whispered. All of a sudden, being the one who was chosen wasn't just a game anymore. Some of these people were actually expecting her to do something. They needed saving and she didn't know how help them.

"We should go and leave these people to their evening meal." Malcolm suggested. "We'll need some sort of torch to light the fuses too." He herded his partner out the door and into the chilly night with a few words of thanks to the couple.

Andie tore her gaze from the modest pair who lingered in the doorway and tucked her hands under her cloak. "They actually want me to unmake the world? How crazy is that?" she choked out. From behind her she pulled out a small silver pocket lighter and offered it to Reed.

Malcolm tried to decide if he wanted to know where she kept all those things in that dress. He decided he really didn't. "Perhaps they would be sufficiently awed if you exhibited your ability to procure items from thin air," he suggested in a manner meant to make her relax.

Clearly she was willing to take his lead. With another dramatic flair she pulled her satchel from under her cape. It was not stuffed as full as it had been earlier which allowed it to lie against her back and not be seen under the voluminous cloth. "Where'd you think I was keeping my stuff?" she teased. "I can't keep everything up my sleeves, and besides, it's my security kit and I can't…"

"Live without it," he chimed in. "I think you've mentioned that before," he told her with a grin, holding her horse by the reins for her to mount. His flippancy gave him pause. He was having more fun than he ought to be having, considering their lives were in danger and the safety of the crew hung in the balance because nobody had non-lethal settings on their swords or arrows. It made him feel a bit perverse.

Heaven help him! He _was_ having fun! Skulking through an old castle, villains at every turn with a group of friends willing and able to fight at his side...it was like an interactive holographic game! The thrill of the chase and the midnight ride had released extra adrenaline into his system until every muscle was tensed for action and every sense was heightened in anticipation and it was rather exhilarating, certainly better than sitting around a campsite waiting for engineers to do all the work to rescue them! That's all it was; just the excitement of being operational. He'd never been one for sitting on his ass. He wasn't having fun; she was too exasperating, he told himself.

"We're on a schedule, Doctor. The riders will be here soon." He helped her to climb aboard her _esther_ then stood back. "Go find someplace to hide. I'll plant these on the bridge and return after I detonate." He started to move away.

"Hey! I'm going with you!" she protested, slipping off her mount.

"No, you're not," he told her firmly. "As the Sacred figurehead whose presence is keeping the captain alive, you will go back to the Tower and await my return."

He heard the rustle behind him and turned around slowly. Andie was following him. "Hey, buddy," she raised her hands in protest. "If it's safe for you, then it's safe for me."

Shaking his head he directed her back to her steed. He took another step and heard the rustle of silk. He looked toward the heavens and prayed for patience. She was definitely irritating rather than entertaining.

"I don't want to be alone out here," she tried again, sounding very small.

Reed frowned again. He didn't intend to be taken in by her pouting lower lip anymore. His groin still ached when he remembered that she had no weaknesses that she'd admit to. Firmly he told her, "Wait here. I'll be back."

"Oh, I am going with you," Andie told him in no uncertain terms.

"No, you're going to wait here."

Andie stopped playing nice. "Look, pal, you can take me with you and keep an eye on me, or you can restrain me in whatever fashion you like here in the village. I _will _get free and I _will_ follow you and most likely pop up at an inopportune moment and screw up your plans and to top it off I _will_ be in a foul mood for being restrained in the first place. Take your pick," she challenged.

Sadly, she was probably right about all that. "Come on," he grabbed her arm with a restrained growl. "You can be the lookout." He helped her back astride her steed.

* * *

_Village Bridge:_

_Day Five: Night_

The bridge was another of those high-tech marvels that had no business in this low-tech environment. Stones had been cut precisely to rest on one another, forming pairs of pillars that began at the bottom of the crevice, just as deep and treacherous as the one Reed and Andie had climbed partway down just yesterday. Something that tall should be flimsier or impossible to build in the first place! The graceful arc of the bridge consisted of thick wooden beams stretched across the center. Considering the height of the overpass and the rough terrain in which it rested, it was miraculous that it remained intact. In the middle of the bridge, Malcolm slipped off his steed and set down his pouch carefully. "Stand at the end," he directed. "And if you see them coming, shout!"

"Sure," she agreed amiably. He should have known she'd have something up her sleeve. She turned her mount toward the end of the bridge all right, but she chose the side closer to Galen's castle than to the village. "Work fast; we're running out of time!" she called back over her shoulder as she nudged her steed to a trot.

"Andie! Get back here! Andie!" She kept moving. "Do _not _engage them!" He would have howled at her but she was right about the timeline. Muttering under his breath, he set about placing the clay pots filled with incendiary chemicals at what he thought would be strategic spots. Whenever he looked up, he could see the pale form of her horse prancing on the ground at the end of the bridge. He strung the oiled wicks from one pot to another and worried again about whether he remembered the correct dose or not. If he was wrong they'd blow up early.

On the far side of the crossing, Andie waited anxiously until she felt the ground tremble underfoot. She saw the riders approaching and pulled her mount to the foot of the bridge. "Stand fast!" she commanded and they skidded to a halt. "I am Doctor Andrea! Who are you?"

One rider pulled forward and the man pulled off his helmet. "I am the Roland, captain of King Galen's guard. It would seem that your circumstances are much changed since last we met, madam." He didn't look pleased to see her.

"Looks can be deceiving. I'm just a different kind of prisoner now," Andie told him. "How's the king doing?"

"He fares somewhat better," Roland conceded. "Although he grieves the loss of his key, as I am certain you are aware. If you return it to me now, I will forgive your trespass and give you your life."

"What makes you think I have the key? Wasn't anyone else in his room?"

"You are the only one to sneak in unannounced and leave in a shower of hostility."

"Why would I take his key? I can't get back to your castle to unlock your doors." She actually waved her hands airily as though these complicated matters were beyond her.

"What game are you playing, mistress?" Roland asked. "Obviously you consort with that bitch, Sadiré. That is her mount!"

Andie smiled a little. "She threatened my life if I leave her, but that doesn't mean I'm on her side." She looked around. Behind her she heard Malcolm whistle. "Your king was fooling around over here the other morning. He was attacked. Maybe this key fell off him then."

"He had it on when I put him in his bed," Roland insisted.

"Then perhaps it will turn up," she shrugged her shoulders. "You would do well to remain on this side of the bridge. I've booby-trapped it and you don't want to get caught in a trap."

"You claim to be innocent but you're barring my path?"

"I have no interest in your land war. I want to go home and when I do, you two can continue to commit travesties upon one another whenever you want. I'm just trying to buy some time." She jerked the reins around. "Remember; stay!" As she gave the command she flicked a match onto the ground that she'd soaked with a stream of liquor from the flask that she kept for medicinal purposes. A fire sprang out of the ground and blocked the path of the king's men as she turned and raced for her companion.

They must have believed her because the fire did keep Roland and his men on their side of the expanse. Reed lit the fuse as she approached and swung up behind her, as his own steed had wandered off while he worked; then together they raced back toward the village road as quickly as they could manage.

On the far side of the bridge, Malcolm reached around her and pulled on the reins, bringing their steed to a halt. He slid off and pulled Andie down with him, slid an arm around her waist, nearly lifting her off her feet to swing her behind a large boulder, seeking shelter behind an outcropping of stones. Counting down under his breath, he reached the last ten seconds he estimated and attempted to protect her with his body just before the world shook around them.

A series of detonations emitted a huge fireball into the night sky, while the sound was deafening. Villagers stumbled out of the huts, fearful that the world had ended while they slept. At the castle, Sadiré pursed her lips and stared intently at the explosion while around her people cowered. The aftermath shook the ground beneath them. Malcolm lifted his head when the ruckus died away and looked around, allowing Andie to stretch upward.

"Damn, that was big!" she breathed. The scent of dirt and sweat and something she was coming to recognize as uniquely Malcolm lingered in her nose, making her head swim. She allowed him to help her to her feet.

"That wasn't quite what I was expecting," he murmured, staring across the valley at the gap in the bridge. He sounded perturbed. She followed him a few steps closer to the drop off to get a better look. On the far side she could see the horsemen standing in awe, just past the large section where the center of the bridge used to be.

"Really? That looks pretty good to me," she responded. "You knocked out the boards of the bridge without damaging the studs. They'll be able to put it together again in no time."

"We weren't supposed to destroy the bridge; just buy us some time," Reed reminded her.

"That's what I meant. It's nice work, done on the fly, too." She looked around absently, clutching her arms around her torso and trying not to shiver. "Where's my pony? Crap. We'll have to walk back." Her steed, like Malcolm's, had fled back to the safety of the barn.

Now that they were safe for the moment, there was something Reed felt he should discuss with that damned woman. "That was quite reckless of you," Malcolm turned on her her. "What were you thinking, confronting them by yourself?"

"My daddy always said I had the damndest luck?" she suggested with a sassy grin.

"Try again," he commanded. "You aren't scared of anything but that doesn't make you invincible! What were you thinking?"

"Inter-dimensional beings are keeping an eye on me for their own reasons?" she offered with an overly bright smile.

"Is this about Daniels' again?" he asked suspiciously. He was not swayed by her playfulness.

She sighed. "No, this isn't about dead zombie Daniels! I just didn't want to leave you to do all that alone."

"How am I supposed to take care of you when you work outside the purview and oversight of command?"

"Of all the people on this planet, I'm the one you should be worried about the least! You should open your eyes and realize that!" Her temper was rising. It had been an extremely long day.

"What I'm worried about is how badly you'll screw up the entire mess in your single-minded defense of yourself!"

"I can take care of myself! You shouldn't have to bear the burden alone," she said simply, her ears still ringing from the explosion. "I was just…" her voice trailed off.

He could put the pieces together though. "You're doing this to protect me?" he queried in amazement "I'm supposed to be protecting you!"

"I don't need protecting. You do." Once again she sounded small. She was a little confused; Reed didn't seem to be faltering or falling apart. He didn't seem to be anything but capable, but the thought of just sitting back and leaving the dirty work to someone else just make her shudder. Time had taught her that relying on somebody else always ended badly, but she was beginning to think that nothing would keep Reed from standing at her side, if only to castigate her. He was resilient; she'd give him that much credit.

Malcolm pondered that with some surprise. She seemed so earnest. "You think I need protecting?" He had a sudden and terrible thought. "Does this have anything to do with that water rescue?"

She didn't answer. It didn't really have anything to do with him, but there's no good way to tell him that.

"Look that was a one time thing. Outside of the water I am quite good at my job and I don't need a doctor following me around to make certain I can do this. I'm supposed to keep you safe. I don't think I've been doing a very good job of that these last few days, but I promise I won't leave you alone to your fate. We're in this together."

Andie snorted. "You're not going to leave me? You can't actually make that promise. We're lingering here under threat of certain death!" Her voice grew husky. "I wouldn't believe you anyway."

"I see," Malcolm recognized slowly. "I'm not paying for my mistakes. I'm paying for somebody else's." There was a silence between them as far and wide as the great crevice they stood beside.

There were other dark shapes moving through the night. Sadiré's forces had finally been mobilized and horse-like shapes showed up to lend assistance to the humans.

Reed signaled the first rider he saw. The young man pulled up and looked wide-eyed at the woman before him. "The lady has had enough excitement for one night," Reed told the lad. "Take her back to the safety of the Tower."

Andie stared at him in silence. "You're sending me away!"

"I'm doing what I should have done earlier," Malcolm retorted. "I'm making certain you are safely out of the way!"

Eventually she stopped glaring at him and stepped forward to take the proffered hand of her guardian. She allowed him to assist her to sit sideways across the horse in front of the boy. She was being dispatched and there was no greater punishment. But she refused to let Reed see how much this action hurt her.

She turned to her newest guardian and smiled brightly. "It's been some time since I had such a fine young specimen to squire me about," she teased.

"Aye, m'lady," the boy stammered.

"You must be very responsible to deserve such a task! Are you the most courageous man here?"

Her flirting certainly put stars in his eyes. The young man laughed nervously and was clearly smitten and Reed was annoyed. She'd entice anyone! As a matter of fact, look at the way she had flirted with him over the Chamomile Rodent! A thought crossed his mind: Flirting was just another of her lies. His smile disappeared and he wondered if the real Andie Brainerd would ever make an appearance.

He watched them go with heavy heart.

* * *

_The Watch Tower_

_Day Five: Night_

Wide eyes followed the Chosen One all the way to the outer courtyard of the castle. Andie allowed her soldier to assist her dismount, ignoring the peculiar looks of the citizens in the area. She thanked him then turned to face the Imminent Queen. Sadiré eyed her with interest. Before the women could resume their petulant sparring, another young man came running. "Oh, Chosen One! We have need of your assistance!"

Andie lifted her chin in Archer's direction and he left Sadiré's side to follow his physician. They were taken into a lean-to hut built against the wall in the outer ward. A man lay on a mat on the floor in serious distress. His face, like the rest of his body, was swollen and purple and he was having trouble breathing. In spite of his disfiguration Andie recognized him. He was the second guard she'd encountered on the viewing platform. Reed had smashed an urn in his face. It was nothing that would cause this kind of damage though and she was already reaching for her medical scanner for analysis.

The physician dropped to her knees. "Some privacy, please," she commented, hoping to shield the technology from the underdeveloped eyes.

Archer took one look and began herding the others out of the room. "Let the...Let her work," he told them, unable to call her the Chosen One. He stood just outside the door and kept the others from intruding.

It didn't seem to matter. Before she could make any diagnosis, the man thrashed about, gasping like a fish out of water. In seconds it was over. He was dead.

"You have to catch these things early," Sadiré purred from the open doorway. "Arachnidan bites are very poisonous."

Andie leaned back and glared at the woman. "If you could heal him then why didn't you?"

"In the time of the Prophecy, all should live or die by the Chosen Hand," the detestable woman smiled coolly. "What makes you think I have that kind of power? They have made you their Chosen One."

"You let him die to prove a point to me?" Andie's rage grew.

"What gives you the right to make that choice?" Jon raged as well.

"All who abide here live and die at my whim. Like your friend Nelek," Sadiré told them maliciously. Andie made a move to rise and Sadiré held out a hand. "Would you give us a moment, Captain? We have matters to discuss."

"Please do, Jon," Andie growled. "I've got a bone to pick with her!"

The captain would have protested, but Sadiré was just inside the open door. Once swift kick of her boot slammed the portal closed. Seconds later the sound of a struggle met their ears as well as a sound much like screeching wild cats. Something heavy hit the door and there were indistinguishable grunts.

Captain Merwyn arrived and lent a shoulder to the door. Between the two men, they broke the hinges and looked inside to see the Imminent Queen strangling the Chosen One. The dark-haired woman had the lighter-colored female pressed up against a wall and her hand was squeezing the doctor's throat. There were gasps of horror behind them. Andie's hand clutched futilely at Sadiré's grasp on her neck but she did not struggle as hard as Archer expected her to.

"My lady, release the Chosen One!" Merwyn commanded. "Sadiré!"

The spiteful woman dropped her grip and turned, bringing out a hand to slap the captain of her guard soundly across the face. "Insolent dog! I am the Lady of the Tower! You will address me as such!"

"I told you," Andie hissed, clutching at her reddened throat. "I told you if you ever laid so much as a finger on my men I would change your fortune."

"I have not touched your man!" Sadiré waved negligently at Archer.

Andie nodded at the corpse at her feet and at the reddened face of the tower guardian. "You just did," she seethed.

They seemed poised to start scrapping again but at the last moment Sadiré noticed the growing crowd in the peasant barracks. "Perhaps you will see things differently in the morning." She held her head high and lifted her skirts delicately. The people stepped aside, lowering their gaze as she sauntered past them.

"Are you all right?" Archer asked. He was panting slightly at his recent exertions.

"I'm fine," Andie nodded. She watched Captain Merwyn kneel down beside the bloated body and brush the sweaty hair from the purple forehead tenderly. It seemed clear that he had known the young man well.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Andie offered.

"Can you help him?" Merwyn begged.

For the second time Andie's façade faltered. "He is dead. I cannot change that."

Merwyn's face solidified but his hand remained gentle as he stroked the boy. "He was my sister's child, the last to be born in this village, the last child to be born anywhere, to my knowledge. The world is drying up." He glanced up at Andie again, but he did not mention the prophecy or her expected turn to unmake the world, for which she was grateful.

"I don't know anything about your death rituals, but with your permission I would like to send a prayer to the Great Bird to carry his heart to the endless peace of the bright blue sky," Andie offered.

The guard looked surprised. "He attacked you! Why would you do such a thing?"

Andie shrugged. "He served his master well, with dignity and honor. The Great Bird recognizes a good heart, even if he served a less than faithful mistress." The physician offered Archer a pointed glance before she knelt down on the other side of the mat and under the covers of the thin blankets, took some scans with her medical device.

Merwyn sighed heavily. "Sadiré is much changed." He smiled regretfully. "She was devoted to her mother. She followed her everywhere. She never seemed to recover after Lady Letizia's death. In the last year she has lost both her sister and her father. The world has been cruel of late."

"May I ask how they died?" Archer inquired, picking up on Andie's wish for a moment of privacy. When Merwyn turned his gaze to Archer, Doctor Andie scraped a sample of green goo from the side of the boy's neck into a small container.

"Steward Declan fell off the Tower walk a few months past. Mistress Theia was attacked by the _ktirya_."

"And Lady Letizia?" Andie prompted gently, slipping her things into her pack and looking with concern at the grieving man.

"She was an accomplished herb woman, but she grew strange in her last months. She confused her potions with her tea." He looked down at the boy again. "You may summon your Bird if you wish, my lady. If you think that anything sacred will ever come here again," he added listlessly.

Andie looked up at the captain who nodded. He stepped outside and gave them a moment alone. The physician stood and drew a deep breath. The song was not something that Merwyn understood; it was in a tongue he'd never heard before. But she had a clear voice and it carried, echoing against the amphitheater of stone belonging to both the mountains behind and the walls around them. The woman didn't sing loudly, but the sweet sound rolled along the barriers and swept over the peasants that gathered outside channeled by the steep canyon.

It was a time of mystery when all the prophecies seemed ready to come to pass and magical things could happen. Stars had fallen from the sky just a few nights hence. The woman had directed the _ktiryas_ in the arena that afternoon. It was no surprise to some, when they said the mountains actually responded to the sound, gently shifting until the world rolled under their feet. Others said the castle sighed with relief at the announcement of the Chosen One, come to bring about the end of the world. One farmer pointed to a vegetable that he swore was knocked off the vine at the reverberations around the world that night.

The music carried down the craggy hills to the village, although all semblances of actual words were lost by then in the strange echo. For once the _ktiryas_ fell silent in their cells, panting restively with closed eyes. At the edge of the village one old coarse woman frowned deeply. She and her cloaked companion drew back into the shadows and away from the sound.

That sound meant nothing but the end for them. It signified the end of their way of life. It signified the end of everything.


	16. Chapter 16

**Renaisterre**

**By Lieuten Keen**

**Chapter 16**

_

* * *

__The Watch Tower_

_Day Five: Night_

"We need to talk." She was still settling her cloak around her shoulders as they passed through the outer courtyard.

"Did you feel that earthquake?" Jonathan asked his petite companion.

"What earthquake?"

"About a half hour ago, the earth moved a little."

"I sing a little song and the earth moves for you? You sly dog," she chuckled. Andie was enjoying this too much. She sobered quickly though. "That's so disturbing."

"I think I'd prefer to think that geologic instability was added to the list of things that have gone wrong this week, rather than an attraction between us," Jon retorted dryly.

"Me too," she agreed vehemently. "The acoustics here are fabulous though."

They walked a bit further. Jonathan sighed. "I know you haven't lived your entire life on Earth, but when a woman tells a man she needs to talk, nothing good ever follows that sentence."

Andie looked at him from the corner of her eye as they walked through the courtyard. "That soldier died from wounds similar to those that afflicted the king. I'll have to do some tests to be certain, but they both showed a pair of puncture marks that oozed green liquid. The difference is that the king was attacked in his leg, not his neck, and somebody had the good sense to wrap a tourniquet around his thigh to buy him some time."

"She called it Arachnidan," Jon recalled. "I'm glad you enjoyed my tourniquet technique. I haven't tied one in years."

Andie looked surprised. "That was you? That was quick thinking." She pondered the man in front of her for a moment as though deeply puzzled. When she noticed that he was watching her curiously, she shook her head and went on with her thoughts. "If she's talking about arachnids in general, then we're looking for a spider, but if she meant the class Arachnida we could be talking about any number of arthropods, like scorpions, mites or ticks."

"You think somebody attacked them on purpose?" Jonathan filled in. "But I thought Malcolm hit that soldier in the face?"

"He took a jug from an old woman. The bug must have been inside. If she wasn't working for Sadiré, then she may have been making her own power play." Andie chewed on her lip. A pair of men stopped what they were doing to watch the humans pass by. She was well aware of their attentions and waited in silence until they passed. "The good news is that the king is doing fine. Roland said so."

"Roland?" Archer queried.

"The captain of Galen's guard," she explained. "He led half the garrison toward the Watchtower."

"That's a little more than Sadiré was expecting to deliver a message."

"I don't think he was delivering a message," Andie said softly. "I think he was looking for the key."

"_The_ key? Not _a_ key, but _the_ key? The same key that folks keep beating me to find?" Archer asked, rubbing his jaw which ached in sympathy.

"This key," Andie told him solemnly, pulling her hands out of her sleeves where she'd been keeping them warm and pushing back the fabric to expose one metal piece tied to her forearm.

"Doctor Brainerd! How could you take that? People are going to war over that thing!"

"They were going to war over it before we even got here! I didn't start anything! I may have just muddied the waters a little. And the man who had it was nearly felled by poison," she added contentiously. "I think his security was already compromised!"

"And now we've got it." Jon sighed deeply. He was cold down to his very toes, and he felt empty even deeper than that. This just kept getting worse. "I can't believe Malcolm was a part of this!"

"He wasn't," Andie told him. "He was busy with a trap door. I figured the fewer people who knew the better." She exhaled slowly and leaned over the railing on the wall walk at the end of the corridor near their quarters. "Have you told Malcolm about your ribs?"

"I figure the fewer people who knew, the better," Archer answered bitterly.

"He can't plan an adequate rescue without that information."

"You're the one who needs to worry about rescue," Jon informed her. "The Imminent Queen just tried to kill you."

"She didn't try very hard," Andie smirked.

"You lost on purpose," he guessed with a sigh. Archer considered the way that Andie had not struggled under Sadiré's thin hand. She was always scheming and planning; just thinking about it exhausted him.

Andie smirked. "I was curious about how she fights. She hits like a woman who's not used to hitting. Her hands are mostly soft. She's got some skill but she's not used to kicking ass. She's got someone else to kick ass for her."

"You think we can use that to our advantage?" Archer considered the idea. "Merwyn seems to like you. Maybe we could turn him to our side."

"It bears consideration," Andie acknowledged. "He did come to my defense just now at the expense of his loyalty to her."

Manipulating one man into turning against one woman before the king started an all out war was just one more thing on a very long list. "Get some sleep, Doctor. We'll talk more about this in the morning." It had been a very, very, very long day. "Don't steal anything else before then," he added, intending it to be a joke. It came out more caustic than he intended and he waited for her to go on the offensive against him.

They arrived at their adjacent quarters and Andie just smiled thinly. "Good night, Jon."

She was probably as tired as he was. His headache just continued to get worse inside his own room. The walls closed around him. Jon threw himself on the bed and tried to rest but thoughts kept rolling restlessly around in his brain.

_

* * *

__Andie's Quarters_

_Day Five: Late Night_

Andie heard a knock on the door and went to investigate. Reed was there, pacing nervously and peering over his shoulder. He carried a heavy basket.

"You're awake," he sighed with relief. "I was afraid you'd gone to bed."

"You want to come in?" Andie swung the door wider. She'd been expecting this ever since she spoke with Archer. _They had conferred about what a naughty girl she was and Reed was here to read her the riot act!_

"I have something for you," Reed stalled uselessly, ignorant of her jolt of surprise. He noticed the chemical set resting on a small table before the fire. "Am I interrupting?"

"No, I'm waiting for results."

"Results on what?"

"Remember when you hit that guy in the face with a pottery jar? I took some samples of the green liquid I found in the multiple puncture wounds on his neck. I'm trying to match them up to the sample I took from the king yesterday."

"Is he all right?" Malcolm asked, dreading the answer.

"He's dead," she answered briskly. "There was a bug in the jar." He really wasn't here to shout at her. She was too tired to be relieved.

"He's dead because of me?" Reed tried to continue breathing around the giant pain in his lungs.

"Somebody else put the arachnidan in the jar. You had no way of knowing it was there." The parcel he carried drew her attention when it lurched. "That's a big package. What did you bring me?" She nodded to the large picnic basket he set on the floor in front of him.

Reed considered her voice, which was much more sober than he'd ever heard from her. At first he assumed she was still angry with him for taking her to task earlier, but now the phrase that came to mind was 'bottled up.' It was a phrase that kept coming up when the doctor was around. Perhaps she wasn't upset with him, but bottling up some deeper feeling and anger is how it represented itself. Perhaps he misjudged her flirtation with the young solider who escorted her home. Realizing he was just staring at her, he absently flipped the toggle on the lid of the basket and out hopped a smaller version of the gladiator _ktirya._ "I told you I'd never leave you unguarded."

"You brought me a predator?" She couldn't help stepping away from the infant who was almost the size of Porthos. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"You said you had trouble sleeping without your cats and we can't have you waking up screaming here and I thought..."

"You brought me a man-eating bodyguard?" she repeated, looking at him. _Aha! He really was cracking up under the pressure!_ Her subconscious was secretly delighted that she had been proven right.

Malcolm squirmed. "It's a tactical device. I can't be with you all night," his cheeks flushed hotly at the thought, "and I thought you could use the companion. He's just a young fellow and he's been well-fed." He suddenly noticed how the firelight illuminated her shape beneath the nightgown she was wearing, and he was certain she was going to kiss him. That wasn't the reason he brought her the creature; no, that was a tactical decision. But she was a tactile person, and as a way of thanking him she would probably think nothing of leaning in and kissing him on the cheek as a way of thanking him and she was going to do it while wearing a see-through gown in front of a big bed with her hair loose and wild around her shoulders. His hands shook as his brain rambled on incoherently.

Andie stepped back in surprise. _He remembered._ Not a fan of cats himself, but he remembered that she was and was doing something just for her, even if it required him offering her a killer as a protector. He wasn't cracking up; he was making a gesture, a rather sweet one too. Once more she was wrong about him. She kept waiting for the moment when the other shoe would drop and he would be just like every other man she'd ever known, but once again, he'd dodged the bullet. She placed her hand on the center of his chest and she leaned forward, intending to thank him.

_She was going to kiss him now_. He was certain of it. Reed couldn't help the involuntary way he licked his lips just as her head dodged at the last minute and he was left wanting.

"Thank you," she murmured in his ear. For just a moment she considered thanking him in a very different way, a more personal way. A more naked way, she noted, after all they were standing right in front of a big bed and she'd already had a peek at what kind of prime beefcake he was. At the rate she was going, it might be her last night on earth and it would certainly be one hell of a send-off. He was so gentle though; he'd hate himself in the morning. She didn't know quite what to make of that. Gentle things should be protected. Andie took a deep breath and stepped back, letting her hand fall away.

Malcolm flushed scarlet as he watched her move away from him. "It was just a..."

"Tactical maneuver, I understand," she acknowledged blandly. "You want to stay and play with the kitty?"

That innocent phrase sounded completely filthy in lieu of the way he couldn't stop thinking about how inappropriately disappointed he was that she hadn't finished the maneuver he thought she was making. "I have to go," he stammered, backing up and scooting into the hall. She was definitely irritating, he told himself. "Sleep well," he suggested half-heartedly.

* * *

_Archer and Reed's Quarters_

_Day Five: Late Night_

Archer looked up when Reed stepped into the room and exhaled loudly.

"How'd it go?" the captain asked. "I see you blew up the bridge."

"The king won't be invading for a few days," Reed answered, pulling his body into a stiff attentive stance. He sighed again and the stiffness went out of him. He dragged his body to the delicate sofa and flopped down.

"What are you thinking?" Archer inquired.

"Too many puzzles," Reed responded. The captain gave him an expectant look so he started in. "Sadiré's mother was an herb woman."

"I know," Archer replied. "I got a brief family history."

"I understand a second man has been poisoned in a matter of days."

"Andie's working on that," Archer confirmed. "You think that's coincidental?"

"I think Sadiré is the one behind our attack in the forest."

"That seems to be a safe assumption." Archer rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose. "I'm afraid the men she sent after Trip might have been too much for him to handle alone."

"I believe he got away," Reed told him. "There was a message of sorts."

"What message?" Archer was alert.

"I saw some lights blinking in the forest on the way home. They were blinking in Morse code. I believe there are a couple of crewmen in the shadows, watching over us. The message was simple; it was just one word: Status. They weren't under attack; just concerned about us."

"What did you say to them?" Jon wanted to know. It wasn't fair that the cavalry was so close yet so unreachable.

"The Tower guards kept a pretty close eye on me. I only had a few letters. I told them to wait." Reed started pulling off his unfamiliar boots. "Since I don't believe in precognition it seems strange that Lady Sadiré would know so quickly for someone without technology that guards were sent on behalf of the king. But I keep thinking that our communicators are still missing."

"Those men in the forest took our comms. You think they are communicating with Sadiré about the goings on in the neighboring castle?" Jon thought about that. "They figured out what the technology is pretty quickly."

"They have our phase pistols too," Reed reminded him. "I'd rather they didn't learn how to use those as quickly."

"It's not that they are using technology, but that they aren't astounded by it," Archer noted. "You'd think they would be more curious or something."

"There's definitely something fishy going on. She's the Imminent Queen but nobody addresses her as royalty. In fact her father was merely a steward!" Reed still sounded peeved that nobody was using the correct form of address.

Archer decided he was just too tired to keep talking about all of this conspiracy. "I think Andie might have been right to worry about the villagers being trampled under the feet of the king's messengers. We should see about getting them secured tomorrow."

"I'll start making arrangements first thing, sir." Reed could really have done without the reminder of the doctor just before he was set to crawl into bed with the captain at his side.

"Then we'd better get some rest. It's going to be a big day tomorrow."

* * *

_Andie's Quarters_

_Day Six: Morning_

Andie woke suddenly as the rather weighty thump of the kitten landed on the bed and proceeded to creep forward. "Not now, Leon," she mumbled sleepily, kicking her foot under the blankets in an effort to dislodge her feline from the bedding.

Rolling over she snuggled deeper into her pillow. One hand flopped out of the blankets and the chilly air sent a shiver down her spine. It took a year and a half for her eyes to roll open.

Staring her in the face was something awful. Its body had three distinct sections covered in a hard black shell. Six hairy legs brought it scurrying closer to her face while two fangs descended from its mouth in a glistening grin. Andie squeaked and jerked her head back. The _ktirya_ waggled its fanny before launching its fat little body through the air to land on top of the arachnidan and chomped down with jaws full of sharp teeth.

Andie's hand wrapped around the hilt of her Klingon blade and she drew it out from under her pillow in preparation. Something touched her shoulder and Andie swatted her blade at it before tossing back the covers and scrambling to the foot of the bed. A second bug was crawling across her pillow. While her bodyguard happily chomped on his breakfast, Andie looked around for some kind of jar. She snatched up an empty chamber pot and overturned it on top of the second thing. Then she couldn't help dancing a little jig and swatting at her flesh as the feeling of critters crawling over her skin lent itself to her consciousness.

_Terran life sucked giant turds for reasons that included biting, hissing scampering bugs that tried to inject poison into you while you slept! _That was a hell of a way to wake up!

When she stopped dancing around, assured that nothing else was crawling over her body, she moved closer to the overturned chamber pot, where the sound of multi-legged scrabbling could be heard underneath. One bug was unfortunate circumstance. Two bugs were sinister. Her carnivorous pal continued to gnaw on the last bits and pieces while Andie looked around the room. The chair was still in front of the door so nobody had tried to get inside that way. The strings were still in place in the window hinges so nobody had tried to get inside that way. She attempted to poke her head up into the fireplace, thinking that perhaps Santa Claus had migrated from the North Pole, but even that turned out to be a dead end.

Above her head the wood in the ceiling creaked. She hadn't moved an inch, but something had shifted its weight up there. Peering up at the roof, she noticed something else. There were no cobwebs in this room. Not a single one in any corner. These spider-like creatures could not have accidentally fallen into her bed, assuming that their spider-like appearance allowed them to spin webs like their earthly cousins might.

"Let's get out of here, pal," she spoke out loud to the purring creature kneading her pillow with his sharp paws. "You really saved my bacon there. You know my dad picked my name because he liked astronomy. There was this guy, Orion; he was said to be a good hunter. I think you might be of his lineage." As she muttered to the _ktirya_, she threw open closets and wardrobes, looking for something suitable to wear, something more substantial than the thin silks she'd worn last night.

Andie dressed in a hurry, choosing a gown that was much simpler than the complicated monstrosity she'd worn yesterday. It was pumpkin orange kirtle made of unadorned wool with a high neck over a fitted bodice and a full skirt. The sleeves hugged her arms until they billowed out at the elbows and a short cape swirled around her shoulders. Its simplicity suited her needs much better than the complicated get-up she wore yesterday.

Speaking of complicated get-ups, she taped, strapped and secured a series of instruments underneath her dress in various places and pulled the strap of her kit over one shoulder to rest at her back. Her knife was used to tear that complicated purple dress into strips of fabric. Hair was plaited in a single braid and tied with a length of violet silk. A longer length of violet silk was used to create a harness for Orion before loading him back into his basket. Another length secured a linen handkerchief around the rim of the chamber pot to hold in her unwanted guest, after she had procured a sample of the malevolent saliva gleaming on his protruding teeth. If anyone in this bloody castle knew a damn thing about unwanted guests, she was pretty sure Sadiré would have her hands in it.

Before she headed downstairs, she stopped and glanced at the door across the hall. She put down her packages and rapped sharply on the door. Neither Archer nor Reed answered. She rapped again then pushed the door open. The bed was neatly made but neither man was in residence.

She couldn't help the bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that demanded that she pull back the blankets in order to inspect the pillows for signs of blood. The relief she felt nearly sank her to her knees. Something caught her eye. Actually something flashed in her eye. The sun was just over the horizon in an unusually clear morning; although rusty fog hovered just at the periphery of dawn.

The flash was bouncing off something way down in the gorge. Andie pressed her face against the window, trying to get a better look, but the overhanging clouds shifted again and the unusual brightness faded away, stealing the light and dulling the flashing light.

Andie's brow split into its own deep crevice. This room was nearly silent. The ceiling had been whitewashed so that it might catch whatever light was available. A strangled mewling caught her ear from the basket she'd left in the corridor, but there was nothing but silence in this room. Shaking her head, Andie picked up her parcels and headed back into the courtyard.

Her determined stride carried her across the expanse of open air in the courtyard. More than half a dozen people actually acknowledged her presence. Some curtsied, others made verbal pleasantries, but the lady of the house offered the most satisfying response. Sadiré's jaw dropped. She looked both stunned and peeved.

Lady Andrea walked straight up to the dark-haired woman with a feral gleam in her eye. Wordlessly she set down her basket. Then she ripped the linen covering off the chamber pot and dumped the contents on the ground in front of Sadiré. A peasant woman screamed at the sight of the six-legged bug. The arachnidan hunkered down in shock, trying to get its bearings. Andie just kicked the lid of the basket open and Orion leaped out, causing the spider to squeak just before teeth sank into its middle. As the young _ktirya_ munched happily on his second morning treat, Andie leaned in closer to the woman before her.

"That was your second attempt. Do not let there be a third."

Sadiré fumed and offered a rebuttal. "What if my third attempt is the successful one?"

Andie's cold smile grew a little chillier. "It won't be." She tugged on the string she'd tied around Orion's neck and the little animal gulped the final mouthful of wriggling legs and trotted at her heels, causing several other peasants to leap back, snatching at their skirts and hems. The highlight of the encounter came when Sadiré recognized the lavender fabric around Orion's neck as being strips of fabric from her lavender gown on loan to her unwelcome guest. Her outraged screech made Andie's smile warm in the chilly morning.

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Six: Morning_

T'Pol rested on a storage case consulting a data pad. She flicked a few buttons and handed it back to the waiting Sergeant Mackenzie. Mac looked at the pad and didn't move.

"Is there a problem?" T'Pol inquired.

"You've assigned Crewman Moreno to relay station duty, Commander, but Moreno is still on sick leave. His leg suffered a bite from those space frogs and..."

"I'll make the adjustment," T'Pol interrupted her abruptly. She snatched back the pad and made a few changes. When she handed it back, Mac still looked confused. "What?" The Vulcan inquired irritably.

"Parsons twisted her knee and she..."

"Of course," T'Pol took back the pad for a second time. She took a deep breath and consulted the other data pad for an up to date list of the sick and injured. Another name was selected and the pad was handed back impatiently.

Mackenzie glanced at the duty roster and nodded. Her jaw clenched as she turned away. She nodded curtly at Tucker as he approached. T'Pol wasn't usually so forgetful; it was good to have another commander around.

Trip settled down on another case and watched the redhead leave. When he was certain they were afforded a certain amount of privacy he leaned in to greet T'Pol. "Mornin'," he drawled. "Hess and Truax and I have been workin' on a lil' somethin' to get us off this rock." With as few words as possible, he outlined their scheme under his breath, holding out the large sized pad for her edification. From his vantage point, he could see both the aforementioned women sitting at the main fire pit, and turning their heads in his direction frequently.

When he finished, T'Pol remained silent. He could imagine how the wheels were turning in her head. Her words were less than encouraging. "This is you plan? This is unacceptable. We will think of something else."

Surprise jerked his head back. "There is nothing else! It's this plan or we start building houses and going native!" He tried to show her the pad with the pertinent data on it.

T'Pol took the machine politely, but she barely glanced at the figures. "There is barely a seventy percent chance of survival!"

"This is our last hope," Trip told her quietly. Someone's got to make the sacrifice so that all of us can get on with our lives."

It must have been luck that turned the engineer's words into an old Vulcan proverb: the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one. The woman frowned, wondering if he chose that adage on purpose to goad her into a rash action. Manipulation wasn't really Trip's way of doing things, she acknowledged, feeling her hands twitch. "You may begin preparations, but if you can't raise the success rate, this project will not leave the ground."

His sigh of relief was quickly aborted when he caught Truax looking carefully over her shoulder again. "I think we ought to involve the crew in this," he admitted. "We've been keeping too many secrets and it's only making them more nervous. They should take part in this, we should make it a group effort, instead of like…fractured glass." Even as the words left his mouth Trip was picturing a deep rash on T'Pol's arm as they left the Expanse. That had kind of looked like fractured glass too.

T'Pol was unmoved. "The crew is fine."

"They are not fine!" Tucker was beginning to hate that word. "They could use a little hope! Besides we can't take away their heaters and their food sources without explaining why!"

She was losing too many pieces of herself, T'Pol thought. Fractured glass is exactly what she felt like. It would be good to feel whole again. "You may inform the crew. But if your success rate doesn't rise…"

Trip was already rising to his feet. "Gotcha! Don't get my hopes up too far!" His smile stretched across his face and he couldn't resist the thumbs up signal he sent to Hess and Truax, both of whom were only partially relieved at his success.

T'Pol couldn't help but think that the southern grin was like the sun coming back to the world.

* * *

_The Watch Tower Road_

_Day Six: Morning_

Captain Merwyn was almost unhappy that he had invited the Chosen One to ride to the village in the carriage with him. The lady was pleasant enough, but her toothsome companion kept licking his chops whenever he raised his head from the brocade cushion he was gnawing on to look at the male. When their short ride was over he exited hastily, nonplussed when the lady dropped the animal into his outstretched hands before climbing down without assistance.

"Will there be a memory service for your nephew today?" she inquired, taking back the _ktirya_ to Merwyn's immense relief before she set the creature on the ground.

Merwyn explained carefully. "We do not have any death rituals, except to leave the body for the _ktirya_."

"You feed your dead to the animals?" She sounded puzzled.

"They are revered creatures!" Merwyn retorted.

"Creatures whose death you invite by tossing them into the fighting ring!" Andie countered.

"That was a custom from the Time Before. They guarded the most holy of places then. When the world was unmade, things changed. The fighting ring wasn't widely accepted then either, but Lady Sadiré brought the custom back when it was her right to do so."

"When she wanted to dispose of her rivals," Andie remarked in annoyance.

"She will not harm you again, my lady. I swear it." Merwyn seemed quite earnest.

"I'm looking for my friends," Andie began another topic. The last thing she wanted were more faithless pledges for her safety, as though she couldn't manage that herself.

He looked surprised. "I was led to believe it was at your directive that your men began evacuating the residents of the village to the safety behind the Tower walls!"

Andie tried not to look surprised. "I didn't know they would start without me," she covered.

"There are those among the villagers who refuse to seek shelter with you." Merwyn looked embarrassed. "They do not believe you are the Chosen One."

Andie smirked. "I'd really like to meet those villagers."

Merwyn didn't know what to make of that grin. "Your lieutenant was overseeing the fortification of the castle by implementing some of the arena defenses, and your captain is in the village somewhere."

"I'll find him. Thank you. You may go." She watched Merwyn walk away looking somewhat deflated by her dismissal. She drew the hood over her head and picked a direction, unmindful of the fact that she was being watched.

Reed was conferring with the pair of potters he'd met the night before when he saw the carriage arrive. Andie spoke with the captain of the guard before dismissing him and heading off with a small animal in tow. Or rather, the small animal had her in tow, he amended with a smile. She looked especially pale today and that worried him. He resolved to finish his conversation here and find her; it would not do for all three humans to leave the Watchtower without Sadiré's permission. It made the other woman nervous. And the potter's seemed happy to move to the Tower.

On the far side of the village, Andie allowed Orion to drag her along a dirt path. They left the village proper and descended into a thicket of brush. The path was tended, but the overgrowth blocked daylight and sightlines. Andie was surprised to find a thatched mud hut hidden in the tangle, but Orion just scratched insistently at the door.

Chewing her lip, the doctor glanced over her shoulder. The village could not be seen and there was no guarantee that anyone would hear her screams for help if this proved to be troublesome. She shrugged in resignation. Trouble would find her no matter how vigilant she attempted to be. Throwing caution to the wind, she rapped sharply on the door.

Jon Archer opened the portal. Andie's eyebrows hit her hairline. Orion made a beeline into the dark dwelling, yanking on the end of his make-shift leash and mewling like a kitten.

"Hey!" she stammered in surprise, struggling against the weight of her young protector.

"Hey!" Jon responded in kind. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in the castle?"

"I walked. What are you doing here?" Orion still lunged against his leash and she nearly toppled over.

"I'm looking around." He glanced over his shoulder and stepped further into the doorway, blocking her view. "Sadiré doesn't like it when all three of us are out of sight."

"Well, I don't like it when my hostess tries to have me killed twice in one day!" She looked Jon in the eye. "Don't make me push my way past you."

With a heavy sigh, Archer stood aside and let his doctor in. The coarse woman from the kitchen was there looking sullen. "Andie, this is Dagmar. She's the Tower cook.

"We've met although we were never introduced," Andie noted coolly. She recognized the cook as being one who had brought her tea and stolen her data pad, and also, she was the woman who kept dangerous bugs in pottery urns at the stadium.

"I was just asking Dagmar why she was carrying a pottery jar full of arachnidans to the arena." Archer avoided the tangle of fabric as Orion scurried around his feet, sniffing his boots and making noises in the back of his throat.

"She was trying to give Sadiré a taste of her own medicine, I hope," Andie told him.

Ignoring Dagmar's surprised expression, Archer just looked at Andie. "What makes you think that?"

"I think Malcolm and I interrupted an assassination attempt," Andie stated nonchalantly. She looked at Dagmar, standing before the fire with a spoon in her hand. "Is that about the long and short of it?"

The coarse woman, Dagmar, just looked belligerent and remained silent.

"Tell me truthfully, mistress. Do you believe I am the Chosen One spoken of in prophecy?" Andie asked sardonically. "You will not be punished for your answer either way," she promised when the woman seemed inclined to continue her uncommunicative position.

Dagmar lifted her chin in the air. "You are _not_ the Chosen One," she spit the words out defiantly. It was clear from her stance that despite Andie's assurances she expected to be executed for her statement. The last thing she expected was Andie response.

"I think we'll get along just fine then!" Andie yanked on Orion's leash to bring him to heel and sniffed the air. "Whatcha got cookin'?"

"You were really trying to kill Sadiré?" Archer repeated. _This was just a cook! What could she have against the lady of the house?_

"Sit down, Orion!" Andie yanked on the silken tether, trying to bring the kit to her side. Her charge was growing more insistent, trying to paw at and break his bindings.

Archer heaved a sigh. Even without her cats, she was disturbing his peace with some other monstrosity! "Damnit, Andie!"

"Orion!" Andie's shout proved useless. The infant predator simply turned his head and bit through his silken cord then plunged around the fireplace to the supply cupboard in the corner. His happy gurgling indicated he found something he really enjoyed. Andie reached behind her to pull out her medical scanner while Archer reached for the dagger in his belt. They found themselves staring down the barrel of a double-loaded crossbow.

"Get back, ya both!" Dagmar hissed, pointing them toward the door.

Doctor Andie looked at Jon and his eyes almost crossed in annoyance. _**Now** she waited for his directions?_ "What's going on, Mistress Dagmar?" Archer asked. Andie sidled further away from him.

"Dagmar, put that away!" another voice spoke from the corner. A lady stepped from the shadows and Orion wound around her legs like a contented pussy cat. "I think my young friend has given away my hidden presence."

"Who are you?" Jon asked.

"This is...Evany," Dagmar insisted with a sideways look at the young woman. "She's...my cousin."

"She's no relation of yours," Andie broke in gently, holding her medical scanner in front of her.

"Dagmar has been my guardian ever since my mother died in child birth," the woman known as Evany spoke up, taken aback at the certainty of Andie's statement. Neither woman seemed inclined to care about the item in Andie's hand, glowing with blue lights.

"Do you often hide in the corner?" The captain put on his most charming smile and hoped the doctor wouldn't make some inappropriate comment.

"These are dark and strange times, my lord," Evany replied. "One must be cautious."

"You help Dagmar in the kitchen?" Andie inquired, looking at the young woman curiously.

"Sometimes I carry messages," Evany replied evasively. "Please sit down. Would you like a cuppa? Perhaps you are hungry?" She lifted a heavy pot with effort from its position over the fire. She filled four clay mugs with the hot brew and used a wooden paddle to scoop something from another cauldron. She offered a cup and a bowl to Andie who sniffed it gingerly. A pointed look at the captain indicated that Andie thought he ought to be fed as well. While Evany turned her back to fill another bowl, and Dagmar guarded the woman's association with him, Andie scanned her breakfast.

Evany turned back to find Andie staring at her. "Taste this," Andie asked, holding out her own thin wooden paddle.

The young woman looked confused. "Is there something wrong?" Gingerly she took a small amount on her tongue.

Andie relaxed. "I've had my second murder attempt this morning. I'm growing more cautious."

"What?" Archer sputtered. The thin gruel was like watered-down mashed potatoes and he was rather happy to have it out of his mouth, even if it now dripped down his chin. He wiped it away in a hurry.

Andie used as few words as possible to relate the incident with the arachnidan.

"That's how she does it," Dagmar nodded. "Those things came from down under. They don't grow here on their own. She has to care for them. Brought them up special to attack those she don't like."

"Maybe it was an accident. Maybe one got away," Archer suggested.

"No." The refusal was indicated by all three females.

Andie scraped her bowl clean and looked at Evany. "What's Sadiré got against you?"

Evany looked nonplussed. Before she could answer, Orion rubbed his head against her knee to indicate that she should continue to scratch his ears.

The human watched the action with great interest. "You know, the crowd thought I was the Chosen One because the animals didn't eat me, but really the _ktiryas_ only offered me courtesies. But they really adore you," Andie pointed out.

"He's...very affectionate," Evany suggested, soothing leathery skin with her fingers.

"You're the real Chosen One and you've been hiding out in the village," Archer put it together.

"No, I'm just...Dagmar's niece," Evany stammered.

"I thought you were her cousin," Andie lifted an eyebrow.

"It's a small village," Archer pointed out. "How do you stay hidden?"

The coarse woman looked at her companion.

"They already know," Evany sighed. She rose and indicated that they should follow. On the other side of the fireplace there was a curtain that covered a small pantry. The carpet was drawn back and a trap door was uncovered. Evany pulled the handle and the three of them peered into the dark hole.

"You live down there?" Andie queried in disbelief.

"There's a labyrinth of tunnels," Evany admitted. "I tend the fire and hide whenever someone comes."

"But some of the villagers know you're here, don't they? That's why they won't leave," Archer guessed. "They believe that you are the Chosen One and they won't hide behind Sadiré's walls."

"I've never told them," Dagmar insisted belligerently. "They don't know anything."

"I think we should take a look at those tunnels," Archer announced to no one in particular.

"You can't," Andie told him. The back of her neck was beginning to prickle. She had a very bad feeling. Leaning her head into the hole, she didn't find the basement she was hoping to, but a series of flimsy partitions to keep out the cold under the earth. Her medical scanner suggested that the underground burrow stretched out in several directions. Dark tunnels winding around in a maze of confusion while any manner of six-legged creatures or things with teeth came scuttling out the shadows to chase her down. She shuddered but that didn't stop what was going to happen.

Archer looked at her with a frown.

"One man and two women were seen entering this house. One man and two women need to be seen leaving it," Andie pointed out.

"What are you suggesting?" Archer demanded.

"A little disguise," Andie noted with a strained smile, nodding at Evany's plain dress and pinafore while smoothing her pumpkin colored gown.

"You're taller than Evany and you look a lot different," Archer pointed out.

It was true. Although Evany didn't have the drooping features of the rest of the inhabitants, minus Sadiré, she definitely didn't have Andie's very human features.

"With a hood and a long dress nobody will notice," Andie shrugged. "She can get in the carriage and go straight to the castle and nobody will know it wasn't me. Plead an ailment, like stomach distress," she suggested. A shadow crossed her face. "Just don't leave her alone in my room."

Archer sighed. "That would leave Malcolm to take care of the castle defenses," he noted.

"He'll be in seventh heaven," Andie snorted. She noted Archer's hesitation. "If she really is the Chosen One we can't leave her here when Galen finally arrives."

"Galen is arriving?" Evany perked up suddenly. She blushed. "I heard he was dead."

"He's fine, last I heard, anyway." Andie looked at the woman. "You knew he was attacked?"

"Sadiré sent her men with an urn full of arachnidan to the meeting she set up," Evany admitted. "I could do nothing."

"You don't seem afraid of him," Archer mentioned.

"Why would I fear the king?" Evany looked puzzled.

"Would you prefer to wait here for him?" Archer inquired.

"She would not!" Dagmar burst out. "There's no telling what he'd think of ya, now he's been nearly deaded here!" She looked at her charge with gentleness. "You're not safe anywhere, especially where this one be taking on your title!" She nodded contemptuously at Andie.

"We don't have a choice, Dagmar," Evany soothed the old woman.

"Captain!" From outside carried the sound of a familiar voice approaching the hidden cottage.

"Malcolm!" Andie hissed. _It was like he could sense out the fact that she was about to engage in subterfuge, that nosy bloodhound!_

"You two get changed," Archer directed. "I'll stall the lieutenant."

Archer stepped out the mud hut and waved at his armory officer. He hadn't told Reed about the key the doctor had lifted and now he wasn't about to tell him about his plan to switch ladies. If there was anybody on board he could trust, surely it would be his tactical officer. Reed was in charge of keeping everybody safe and he had to hold the highest confidence to perform his duty. That didn't change Archer's mind though. For the moment, the fewer people who knew, the better. Reed would probably just charge after Andie, protesting that she couldn't take care of herself without help if he knew.

"What are you doing down here, sir?" Malcolm panted, studying the small hut.

"It took some convincing the get these residents to move to the castle, but I think I've done it," Archer nodded as though pleased. "I'm pretty sure the rest of the village will follow suit when they see that these ladies are going."

"That's good news, sir," Reed agreed. "The envoy seems to be waiting for reinforcements, and there weren't as many defenses in the arena as I'd hoped. I could use just one good phase canon, sir."

"Let's hold off on canon fire, Lieutenant," Archer frowned. "I don't really want to be giving these people any technology they don't already possess."

"Shall I assist these people, sir?" Reed stepped toward the house.

"No!" Archer denied. "Actually if you would bring the carriage around, that would be helpful. One of the ladies is elderly."

"Watch your mouth, young'un!" Dagmar waved a fist at Archer from the doorway. She stepped free of the portal and allowed the young woman in the orange gown to step through, her hood already pulled over her face, and the young Orion cuddled in her arms.

"Good morning, Doctor," Reed greeted the taller woman.

"That's Dagmar!" the old woman shouted again, this time with a solid fist to shake at his impertinence. "Oh, you meant this one, then?" She nudged her companion, pushing her quickly past the inquisitive officer.

"I take it you slept well?" Reed inquired politely.

"My bones pain me some when it's cold," Dagmar harrumphed, placing herself firmly between Reed and the younger woman. "Do you have any idea how many cold days there are on Renaisterre?"

"There are quite a few," Reed agreed. He watched the captain take the doctor's arm and escort her firmly up the hill. Obviously something had transpired between them in the short time she'd been down to the village. Archer didn't seem inclined to speak of it and it would be improper for Reed to inquire into the matter. Instead he offered his arm to the old woman, who took it with some suspicion.

Already the captain and the doctor were at the top of the hill. By the time Reed dragged the elderly cook to the top of the path, the other woman was settled in her carriage. Archer helped Dagmar inside then pulled Reed a few feet away.

"I want you to do whatever you think necessary to fortify the Tower to withstand a siege," the captain told his man.

"How long do you expect to hold out, sir?" Reed inquired in disbelief.

"As long as we need to," Archer told him. "Have you had a chance to send more messages to our friends in the forest?"

"I'm too well surrounded, sir," Malcolm informed him, indicating several villagers who watched them with interest. "But the gossip mill says that Nelek was sent out after Trip, and Nelek did not return with the rest of the hunting party."

"You think she killed him? Why would she kill him?" Archer wondered aloud.

"Perhaps because of the way he spoke of Andie's divinity, sir," Malcolm suggested. "Nelek was determined that Andie was the Chosen One."

"He was the one who started all that," Archer murmured. "And she had him killed. I think Andie's in some real danger."

Reed glanced over his shoulder at the carriage. "I'm sure she'll be fine, sir. Will you be escorting her to the Tower?"

Archer jerked his head toward the carriage as if suddenly reminded of the ruse he was perpetrating. "Yeah, I'll stay with her for a while. You'll be all right on your own?"

"I'll be fine, sir. I think I'm going to select a few men to clear the debris from the pit around the castle. I think it's actually supposed to be a moat and if the water's flowing again..."

"Get it done, Lieutenant!" Archer agreed without waiting for the rest. He scrambled into the carriage, pulled the door closed and rapped on the ceiling. Seconds after the conveyance had moved off, the captain of the guard stood at Malcolm's elbow.

"Is the Lady Andrea returning to the Tower so soon?" Merwyn questioned.

"I suppose," Reed offered noncommittally. "I need your help with the moat."

The men moved off, planning together. The odd behavior of the captain and the doctor remained on Reed's mind all day.

* * *

_The Watch Tower_

_Day Six: Evening_

Malcolm had been working all day without rest. Sweat and grime coated his face. He'd ditched his doublet and worked in his linen shirt along with several other men in spite of the persistent chill. They had managed to clear the worst of the debris from the steep pit, although they'd had to dig several sections out again to clear the path for water. Every time he'd looked up at the stone walls, he saw the figure of a woman watching him.

Some time ago, he'd given Trip grief for missing Andie while he was working and Trip had mentioned that Andie liked to tour through Engineering after procuring cookies from Chef and insisted the pastries were the source of his hankering. At the time Malcolm had just laughed, but today he understood what Trip meant. She had been hovering near him for so long he just expected her to be around somewhere, probably causing trouble. But the only woman he'd seen who wasn't a peasant was Sadiré; perched where she could watch him like a hawk.

He walked the length of his self-imposed dirt hole again, checking the sides of the canal and testing the new improvements. By the time he reached the shadowed area between the falling water and the steep mountain, he was certain he had made all the enhancements he could. Now it would hold or it would not.

Signaling the men waiting on top of the final earthen dam, he clambered out as they tore through the last shovels of earth. Water began pouring through the hole, then gushing over the top, dragging the last of the dirt away as the liquid filled the semi-circle around the fortress. Now they had a moat.

Malcolm shook hands with the men he'd worked with all day, before shouldering his own shovel and entering the main gates with the others. They diverted to one side, to their own lodgings and mess halls while Reed carried on. He left his shovel outside the smithy and proceeded through the inner courtyard intending to head to the stone stairs that led to his quarters. He hadn't seen Archer either and now he was beginning to wonder if that boded ill.

Maybe the captain was bodily restraining that damned woman, he mused. Not that the captain was in any condition to be restraining anyone. The man hadn't said a word, but he cradled his arm against his chest and he was frequently out of breath. It was clear to anyone who'd suffered the same that the man had a broken rib, perhaps two. Hopefully Andie wasn't too much trouble for the old man.

Thinking of keeping Archer out of physical brawls inspired Reed to have one last look at the newly repairs moat and he changed course, heading for the far side of the courtyard where he climbed the opposite set of stairs. The wall walk offered a bird's eye view of the narrow strip of land leading to the river at the foot of the moutain.

Darkness had covered this area sooner than any others, but in the fading light Malcolm could see a shadow that wasn't supposed to be there skulking through the gloom toward the base of the fortress. A sudden prickle at the back of his neck told Reed that the shadowy figure didn't belong out there even if he couldn't see their face. Glancing around to make certain he was unwatched; Reed skipped back down the stairs and darted through a small door that led to the underground cistern.

He didn't have a torch with him and it was dark. Malcolm took a moment to adjust his eyes to the lack of light then proceeded forward, feeling his way with light fingers. The steps down here wound around and around until Reed was dizzy. The air grew cooler. Finally he reached the platform that led to the water supply on this side of the stronghold. Something else was down here. He could almost feel that second presence.

Now he could see the shadowy form of that person. He couldn't tell much more than that but if it was a woman from the kitchens, she would have brought a light with her. Anyone who was down here in the dark was up to no good. Drawing a deep breath, Malcolm jumped on the intruder.

The intruder shrugged him off and tried to spin him around. He found his footing and used his momentum to push the other person off their balance. They hit the wall on the other side with a silent whoosh! Malcolm secured two thin wrists on either side of the wriggling body and growled, "Hold still!"

The body stopped struggling although it still trembled. "Malcolm?"

_What the hell was that damned woman doing down here?_ It's a question he would definitely have asked were it not for the door at the top of the stairs squeaking slightly as it was opened. There was no tell-tale sign of candlelight to indicate a legitimate need for water. Malcolm had been followed. He was pretty sure Andie wouldn't want to be seen down here either. He leaned forward. "Sorry, Drea. Play along." Then he pressed his lips against hers, hoping that the use of her pirate's name would clue her in to his ruse.

She gasped and struggled lightly under his gentle assault, which Malcolm assumed would just lend credence to his hasty story that he was dallying with the help when questioned. Lifting his head, he snarled over his shoulder. "What the bloody hell do you want? This had better be good!"

The second person had a tinderbox. A candle suddenly flared to life, offering a weak illumination of the scene. "Lord Reed?" the voice was rugged and definitely male.

"That's Lieutenant Reed and I ask again, what are you doing interrupting me in the middle of these sensitive negotiations?"

Andie turned her head slightly, away from the flame and into Reed's shoulder. She could have been an embarrassed maiden caught in a compromising act, attempting to hide her shame from an observer were it not for her trembling shoulders, which Reed took to be suppressed mirth.

"Forgive me, m'lord. I saw the door open and came to investigate. I'll leave you to it." The man didn't leave. "That isn't the Lady Sadiré's maid, is it? She'll be unhappy if you defile her girl."

"I am not a fool, am I?" Reed raged irritably. "Now go away and let me finish!"

Slowly, reluctantly, the footsteps climbed the stairs, taking the brief candlelight with them. Neither Reed nor Andie sighed with relief until the door clanged shut at the top.

Actually Andie could not stop shuddering. She hated the dark, hated that feeling that something she couldn't see was about to reach out and grab her. She had kicked herself all day for volunteering to take on that crazy job of searching out the tunnels. More than once she'd had to stop and drop her shaking hands between her knees along with her head so that her panic remained at bay. At the moment the chilly temperature was only part of the reason her body was convulsing in involuntary trembles. Reed was really warm and smelled of earth and wasn't a fictitious ghost about to do her harm; his presence was extremely comforting.

Her hands settled on his hips and her lips tilted up to catch his again. For just a moment his attention diverted directly to the top of the stairs, waiting for the recognition of somebody coming back down. But there was nothing. Except her cold lips moving softly against his, he noted suddenly.

Malcolm jerked his head up. "Andie, I....what was that?"

At least she didn't have to worry about being chilled anymore; her face overheated with the flame of idiocy! "I thought there was…something there," she murmured in a choked voice.

Suspiciously his head turned around to the stairs but they remained empty.

"It's gone now," she assured him, sounding more like herself.

Reed stepped away from her in a hurry. "That was...You know that was a..."

"Tactical maneuver, I know," Andie grunted, lifting her body away from the wall.

"I didn't..."

"...Mean it, I know," she added.

"That was just a fake kiss," he reaffirmed hesitantly.

"I should hope so! It wasn't that good!" Andie covered her shame by picking on him. "I really need to talk to Archer right away so if you're done reminiscing about my sweet lips, could you help me get out of here? I'm not even sure where I am actually."

"Right!" Malcolm snapped to attention. _Of course she wasn't moved by some little old kiss!_ He chided himself. "Let's go! After you," he swept out his arm.

"Actually if I'm a servant girl and they are still watching, you should go out first and I'll slip out behind you," she suggested. That way he couldn't see the heat that still tinged her cheeks, although she kept that last bit to herself.

By the time they'd skulked through a series of corridors and shadowy overhangs, Reed thought he'd put it together. She had traded places with that silent woman in the village and Archer had known about it. The disgrace he felt about not being included in their schemes weighed heavily on him. Archer was losing faith in his tactical officer and not for the first time either. Those first few months in the Expanse had been awful, as Malcolm was forced to oversee the assault team brought in to do what Archer obviously thought Malcolm's team was incapable! Even though they had left the Expanse behind, in no small part to the efforts of the marines, the captain had kept the team on board.

It didn't seem fair that this woman was taking precedence in the captain's esteem as well; being chosen to take on such a daring assignment and Reed wasn't even allowed to know about it! He'd been sent off to wallow in the mud! His outrage continued, even though the moat had been his idea all along, and they would definitely need it if that other army arrived for battle.

His ill-temper kept him focused on getting the pair of them across the open courtyard and into their quarters without being seen. Reed would have been disheartened to know that his efforts were for nothing; someone definitely watched them go with interest.


	17. Chapter 17

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 17

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Six: Evening_

T'Pol had been watching the proceedings very closely. To her surprise, the crew handled the reports that they would be cold and eating ration packs again quite well. The fact that there was a plan to get out of here cheered them somewhat, in spite of the hardships. Everyone was doing what they could to assist; those that could not effect any repairs offered food and beverage service, held flashlights in tight spaces, stood by to offer a different tool from a nearby kit, anything to speed along the process. There didn't seem to be any task too small to handle if it meant there was a possibility that they would be getting off this planet and back to their ship.

She was concerned at the possible drop in morale if the shuttle pod plan didn't work. It was an interesting question: was she concerned about their behavior because they were not Vulcan, or was she concerned because she was not human? The two sides were not necessarily the same. Whatever the reason, the human crew responded to the congenial engineer's enthusiasm and work progressed quite steadily without T'Pol, who spent the majority of the day in meditation, hoping to calm her nerves enough that her hands would stop shaking.

By the time she exited her pod in the early evening, she had regained a modicum of reserve will, enough to peruse the data pad offered to her by the escape pod team and make a decision. "I will pilot this mission," she told Trip without preamble over dinner.

Tucker's eyebrows hit his hairline. "No, I intend to pilot this mission." He continued with his objections even though she was already shaking her head in refusal. "You'll need an engineer once you get up there to assess the damage to the engine and get her goin' again! I'm the Chief Engineer! I'm the best man for the job!"

T'Pol remained firm. "I have made my decision." She toyed with her soup.

His voice grew stern. "You're not thinking logically!"

She had been thinking about it all afternoon actually. "I will go. Once I am on board, I can transport you aboard, or perhaps launch a shuttle craft for your convenience. This ship cannot survive without its Chief engineer. If it is unsuccessful, you will have a second opportunity to correct some mistakes and try again." Out of the blue, she remembered a similar conversation that they had in the Expanse when she decided to attempt a rescue of Captain Archer from the Xindi, right before they were attacked by the Reptilians. Trip hadn't been fond of her plan then either. She had wanted to throw herself into his arms then and beg him to tell her it would be all right, but she had refrained. She would refrain from anything so outlandish now as well.

Blond hair was already shaking back and forth in refusal. "We won't have enough materials left after this experiment to create another pod! We'll have lost some crucial crew confidence too! The best chance we have here is to put all our eggs in one basket! I'm going!"

A fleeting thought teased her weary brain. "Are you hungry again? You always make food analogies when you're hungry. You should finish your dinner."

Lips pressed firmly together as Trip struggled to remain somewhat calm on the outside instead of tearing into her for her ridiculous demands. His strained attempt to remain diplomatic in public was given a reprieve when Ensign Sato stepped forward, looking excited and apologetic all at once.

"Excuse me, Commanders," she struggled to control her smile. "There's an urgent call for you, Commander T'Pol."

The Vulcan rose gracefully from her position and looked firmly at Tucker. "As long as I am in command of this mission, you will do as I tell you. I will be piloting this mission, barring a directive from the captain himself." She left the puzzled and fuming commander behind as she headed toward Ensign Shannen and Sergeant Mackenzie, manning the communication station.

Relays had been dispatched that morning. Pairs of crewmen guarded the delicate electronic devices, sometimes with nothing more than sticks and rocks in their hands. They were spread out in strategic positions intended to carry the thin transmissions through the electromagnetic interference generated by the inhospitable planet from the group of humanoids huddled together in the hollow of a mountain top to the outpost watching over the stone tower. The nearest relay station was just outside the tree line, away from camp so as not to interfere with radio communications between guards. Mac was already holding out the small communicator, whose signal was buoyed by the string of machines that whirred to life when needed.

"This is Commander T'Pol," she greeted the person on the other end.

"_This is Sergeant Chang,"_ came the tinny reply. _"Stand by for further relay_."

* * *

_The Watchtower_

_Archer and Reed Quarters'_

_Day Six: Evening_

Andie pushed ahead of Malcolm at the door and hurried into the room, startling Archer who stared morosely out the window. "Where is she?" the doctor demanded after her cursory visual search did not present the young woman under the human's protection.

"She's resting in your room," Archer told her, puzzling over his own lack of relief that the doctor was among them once more.

"Alone?" Andie rolled her eyes and turned around and crossed the hall, intending to check on the lady.

Jon followed her as he explained. "She was tired and said it was inappropriate for her sleep in the same room with a strange man and since you weren't using…"

"She's gone!" Andie whirled around in the doorway to the empty room and looked at him with an accusing stare.

Reed followed the pair and offered his own cursory visual exam. "There's no sign of a struggle."

"She probably went to help Dagmar in the kitchen," Archer sighed. It occurred to him slowly that Reed shouldn't know anything about the female he'd been hiding, unless Andie had filled him in on the walk to their quarters. Jumping ahead as if Malcolm had been in the loop, Archer queried, "What did you find in the…"

"Ten minutes!" Once again Andie jumped all over his sentence. "Give me ten minutes to tidy up and we'll talk." She shooed both men out of the room.

Malcolm and Archer wound up in the dim corridor on the outside of the closed door. They exchanged glances before heading back to Archer's quarters. "I found the cook hiding a girl in the village," Archer explained listlessly. "There were some underground tunnels and Andie volunteered to check them out."

It wasn't appropriate to fume at his superior officer, but Malcolm did it anyway. "You could have told me, sir."

Archer had been thinking about that all day. It wasn't really that he didn't trust Reed; it was more that he wasn't sure he trusted his own judgment. "I should have. I chose not to. It's not a slur against your abilities, Malcolm. You're a fine officer. I've always had…"

Once more Andie jumped all over his words as she thundered into the room after the fastest bath he'd ever known a woman to take, dressed in a wine-colored woolen gown similar to the pumpkin one, with wide cuffs and a high neck. She held up one finger and moved to their bathtub where she turned on the faucet, allowing water to run down the drain, while signaling them with silent gestures to join her in the bathing area for a conversation.

"There's a body down there!"

The words were whispered excitedly, but just loud enough to be heard by the pair straining their ears to pick out the relevant sounds over the rushing water. The noise served to mask their conversation from potential eavesdroppers.

"A body?" Archer asked.

"Are we being monitored? Reed inquired with a frown.

"Yes and probably," Andie answered them both. "First of all the tunnels stretch out further than I thought! I thought they'd just lead to an exit far away, but they stretch out in all directions. Some tunnels lead to the forest, and some lead toward the crevice but some lead all the way to the mountain where the passage just ends!" Her run-on sentence also came to an end as she drew in a deep breath to prepare for the next one.

"What do you mean they just end?" Archer queried.

"What about the body?" Reed demanded.

"The tunnel gets cut off in mid-stretch. Given what I could deduce from my medical scanner, the tunnel continues past the rock face, but there is no door, no seams, no evidence that there was ever a portal there; it just stops with a solid stone wall." She looked at them excitedly. "If the tunnels extend the way I think they do, then that means we aren't living in the entirety of the Watchtower fortress! This is just the waiting room! The rest of the fortress is behind that mountain!"

"You did keep saying that the hills looked like cityscapes," Archer frowned.

"There's more!" Andie went on with gleaming eyes. "I found a body!"

The men waited impatiently for more of this revelation to come forth. They were disappointed.

"First of all, I came into your room this morning; mostly to make sure you were still alive. I thought Sadiré might have attacked you with arachnidans too, but there was a light that kept flashing in my eyes. It came from the rock face, but the sun went away and I couldn't see it, but when I got into the tunnels I started to head in the direction where I thought the light was coming from..."

"What's an arachnidan?" Reed broke in.

"Killer spiders planted in my bed to kill me," Andie hurried through the explanation. "Orion saved me."

"Orion?" Both men repeated with similar arched brows.

"Good kitty," she remarked quickly with a genuine grin. "Thanks, by the way," she offered to Reed.

He was less than impressed. "When do we get to the part with the body?"

"I'm just getting there, geez!" Andie looked taken aback. She took a deep breath and tried to remember where she was in her story. "Did you know that the Renaisterrans don't have any death rituals? They just leave their bodies for the _ktiryas_ to eat; it's supposed to be respectful. Merwyn told me that when he gave me a lift to the village."

"Andie!" Archer barked sharply, hoping to jolt her into getting to a point.

"The body I found in the tunnel had been preserved," she stated simply. "The hand held medical scanner isn't sensitive enough for specifics, so the data I'm about to offer isn't completely accurate, because for a detailed analysis I'd have to get him into the imaging chamber, but for the time being that's not a solution I can choose, but it means the data I'm giving you is partly guesswork, but they are pretty good guesses if I do say so myself." She took another deep breath and noted the growing expressions of frustration with agitation. "The specimen is male, probably middle-aged, and well-to-do, judging by his clothes, which are of a certain quality, if a little worn. His body suffered lacerations and contusions that are consistent with a fall from a great height, probably between six months and a year ago."

"That fits with what we know of Steward Declan. He died when he fell off the Tower walk six months ago," Archer pointed out.

"The body I found, assuming that it is Declan, did not die from the fall!" She sounded triumphant.

"Are you certain? You said your equipment isn't accurate." Reed pointed out.

"Like I said the body is in extremely good condition, considering its age and alleged trauma, but aside from some bruising and lacerations consistent with a fall from a great height, he was in excellent condition. I suspect that somebody pulled his body from the rocks, wrapped him in linen and laid him to rest in a cool, dry cavern, preserving him just as safely as any legitimate crypt. I suspect the rains a couple nights ago flooded the cave he was in and washed the body out, and if it wasn't for some serendipitous debris, he would have been visible in the dry river bed, instead of catching my eye as a freak shift in sunlight bounced off his doublet lacings."

"Andie, get to the point!" Archer hissed. "Why do you think he didn't die in the fall?"

"There's a puncture wound in his sternum. It's short and deep; whatever hit him did so with great force. I suspect a knife wound."

"Why would you suspect foul play and not geological damage?" Reed wondered.

"The damage to the sternum included a green tint in the surrounding tissue and bone. That green tint is consistent with the samples of venom I took from both the soldier who died and the king's leg. But this short deep wound is not the same as the twin puncture wounds in the other cases because instead of twin puncture marks there is only one perforation."

"You think someone dipped a knife in poison and stabbed Declan?" Reed frowned.

"He was dead before he toppled," she nodded with certainty. "I'm certain."

"What makes you think it wasn't some arachnidan that bit him after his fall?" Archer tried to play devil's advocate.

"Dead people don't have blood flowing through their veins. If you get pinched, you get a bruise because blood pools in the injured area. Declan didn't have the deep bruising that he'd have if his blood was pumping at the time of impact."

"Unless time and decay have removed traces of bruising," Reed suggested.

"At any rate, someone killed the steward." Archer snuck a private look with Malcolm before he reached out for the water faucet. Reed was going to have a field day trying to catch a murderer.

"I have some more news," Andie added.

The men looked at her in expectation. Archer waited with his hand on the lever, letting the water continue to run.

"Evany shares DNA with the corpse."

Archer removed his hand from the lever. "That's the woman we found in hiding," he explained shortly to Reed.

"You just said that your instrument wasn't accurate," Malcolm tried again.

"I would need my imaging chamber to ascertain exactly how far removed a person is from their ancestor, but a child ought to have significant genetic similarities to the parent, and my scanner would pick up on those."

"Only if you had a sample of DNA from Evany," Archer pointed out. "You didn't take one."

"I had a sample, if you count the hair follicle I pulled off the clothing that she'd just removed and that I put on," Andie retorted, annoyed that they were questioning her medical expertise. "Do you know what this means? Declan only had two daughters: Sadiré and Theia. Theia was supposedly killed about a year ago when she was attacked by _ktiryas_." Andie spoke quickly. "But Evany shares DNA with the corpse."

"She could be illegitimate," Malcolm suggested.

_Leave it to Reed to pick the worst possible option!_ "In a community this small I think people would know if their leader was stepping out," Andie pointed out. "From all accounts, Declan was faithful to his wives."

"Wives, plural?" Archer looked perplexed.

"Theia's mother was his first wife. Sadiré's mother was his second wife." Andie looked surprised that he didn't know this. "He didn't marry the second until after the first one died. It's not like he was a polygamist."

Her explanations were making his head hurt. Jonathan pondered the problem. "The _ktiryas_ loved Evany. She might have induced their cooperation in staging her death."

"Staging her death?" Reed looked at Archer then Andie.

"What better way to put off your own murder than by staging your own death first?" Archer offered out loud.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Andie leaned in closer and whispered the last, in spite of the precautions of a running faucet. "Evany _is_ Theia."

"We should consider announcing that Declan's heir is still alive. The people would probably embrace her rule more readily than Sadiré's, just because she's native and our current hostess is not," Reed stated.

Archer and Andie looked at Reed who was more than happy to look smug. _That'll teach them to keep him out of the loop!_

"You didn't know?" he couldn't resist teasing them. "I worked all day with the people. They talked. I listened. You should try it some time," he looked at Andie. "Until about twenty years ago they thought they were the only people left on the planet. Then a caravan comes crawling out of the Great Dry Plain out there. The caravan had been much larger, but Letizia is all that survived. Declan's first wife had just died. When Letizia was well enough, Declan married her. They conceived Sadiré not long after."

"Where did she come from?" Andie asked.

"She called it the Sunderland, but please hold your questions; I'm not done yet." Malcolm was really enjoying this. "Declan was said to hold the key that would unlock the power that unmade the world. He would only release that key to his heir as Steward of the Watchtower. So if Sadiré is still looking for the key, that means she doesn't have it. Did you find a key on Declan's body?"

Andie looked at Archer first. "I did not find a key on Declan's body," she answered truthfully enough, without looking at Reed.

"Then it's possible he gave it to Theia before she disappeared," Reed finished.

"Or perhaps Sadiré _thinks_ that Declan gave the key to Theia," Jon looked at Andie with a scowl.

Andie's head was beginning to pound. "This is why Dagmar is certain I'm not the Chosen One. She knows that Theia is. And I'm sure some people in the village suspect she's alive, even if they can't prove it. That's why they haven't embraced me yet."

"I'm sure plenty of people have trouble embracing you," Reed replied dryly. He enjoyed the dirty look he got for that.

"We need to look after Evany and Dagmar," Captain Archer decided. His chest was beginning to hurt with all the people that needed looking after or watching closely and he only had two crewmen here. They were only three people!

He started to turn off the water.

"I'm not done yet," Andie cut him off.

With identical sighs of frustration both men looked at her expectantly.

"I got lost in the tunnels, which turned out to be a fortunate event. I climbed out the hole in the woods and found something important. I also brought back presents." Identical eye rolls at her melodramatic ramblings were interrupted by the presentation of a communicator device and a phase pistol from her survival kit.

"You found the MACO's in the forest?" Reed was delighted, taking the pistol without hesitation and tucking it under his doublet.

"I accidentally came up from a tunnel right under their feet. Chang says hi." She jerked her head back toward Reed. "Wait! You knew there were MACO's in the forest?"

"I'm a powerful seer," Malcolm answered dryly. That was two things he knew that she didn't. It almost assuaged the sting of being left out of Andie's spy work.

Jon switched the device on. Static broadcast into the room before settling into the more welcome sounds of the machine aligning with a known signal.

"This is Captain Archer, calling Starfleet Hollow. Please respond." Archer settled in to wait patiently. In spite of their hostilities both Andie and Reed fell silent and stared at the captain, waiting with bated breath.

"_This is Sergeant Chang,"_ came the tinny reply. _"Stand by for further relay_."

A breeze caused by the sighs of relief swept through the room. When the subsequent relay brought forth the secondary messenger, Andie's hand squeezed Reed's with the excitement.

"_This is T'Pol. It's good to hear your voice, Captain."_

"You have no idea how good it is to hear from you, T'Pol!" Archer's face broke out in a smile. "What's going on?" Relay after relay after relay relayed their words along an invisible line, and drew them together in spite of their distance. Thus began their conversation. When Reed noticed Archer hesitating on some of his answers while darting a look at the listening pair, he signaled Andie and indicated that they should give the captain a few moments of private conversation with his first officer. He led her out the door and to the open air tower walk.

The short stretch of stone was rosy in the fading light and Andie leaned against the stone wall overlooking the steep descent. Malcolm leaned against the barrier not far away. They both turned over the minute details they had just put together.

"If you had to guess, who do you think might have had the force necessary to drive a poisoned knife into the chest of the steward?" Reed wanted to know about the killer.

"Sadiré's the only one credited with keeping poisonous arachnidans as pets," Andie informed him. "And given the height of the dead man and the direction of the wound, I'd guess a shorter person inflicted the wound, making the female the likely suspect."

"Why would she kill her own father?" Reed wondered.

"I think Sadiré did it in order to gain the key to the tower of power," Andie answered simply.

"There's a rumor that she killed Nelek in the forest. He was in the party that searched for Tucker after he slipped away. The two men who went with him came back, but Nelek has not been seen. Let's assume she killed Declan, and that she would have killed Theia if _ktiryas_ hadn't gotten to her first." Reed looked deep into Andie's eyes. "If she thinks you stand in the way of her plans to retrieve the..." _This was worse than 'space frogs'_, he thought with disgust, "...key to the 'tower of power' then she should have no qualms about attacking you." He held up his finger to stall her expected outburst. "She's killed at least three people so far. You should think about treating her better than you have."

"I'll think about it," Andie agreed quietly. This was shaping up to be more trouble than she'd expected when she started. In spite of her heavy wool gown, she shivered in the fading light as the weakened sun sank below the horizon again. She pulled her cloak around her and thumbed through the familiar pages of her data pad.

"You know, as the tactical officer, I can bear a lot of responsibility," Malcolm spoke quietly. "I can be trusted to use discretion when necessary."

"What are you talking about?" Andie asked distractedly, pulling her attention from the readings on her scanner.

"You can tell me things," he repeated. "You told me, for example, that you are afraid of the dark."

Andie was taken aback. There had been no indication that he'd been thinking along these lines. A scowl dropped down over her eyes. "Shut up!" she growled.

"Your fear of the dark, coupled with the disorientation you must have felt stumbling out of a mysterious tunnel makes an excellent explanation as to why you kissed me the second time."

"I am not afraid of the dark," Andie growled.

"If you aren't afraid of the dark, the only other explanation is that you kissed me because you find me irresistibly attractive and you can't keep your hands _or_ your lips _or_ your eyes off me," Malcolm couldn't restrain the smirk as Andie glared at him since she was unwilling to concede to one theory or the other. "Anyway, the point is that you can trust me with sensitive information. You don't have to be afraid of telling me the truth. I can handle it. I haven't been doing a very good job of keeping you safe so far, but I'll do better from now on. You shouldn't have to bear the burden alone," he parroted her words back to her. "You're not so tough, you know," he teased, relaxing his stance somewhat. The answer to her strangely obstinate behavior seemed to please him. And her fear of darkness would explain her obstinacy at the bridge and the fleeting thought that she might kiss him when he came to her room. She was difficult but he would figure her out eventually.

"You don't know how tough I can be," Andie challenged him lightly. Then she changed the subject, not wanting to even contemplate her reasons for kissing him. It was just an impulse, she told herself, and she'd always had trouble with impulse control. "What message do you think Sadiré was expecting to receive from Galen's envoy? If she tried to kill him, shouldn't she be expecting Galen himself?"

"She thinks he's dead," Malcolm guessed. "She was probably expecting the castle clerics to show up and tell her she's the next highest ranking person in two kingdoms and would she pretty please lead them all?"

"You're probably right," Andie muttered.

"I think there are three important questions to answer," Malcolm announced suddenly. "What is the power kept inside the tower? Where is the key to unlocking it? And where is the prophecy that started this whole business in the first place?"

Andie pulled her pad out and perused it intently. "There were markings all over the tunnel walls," she remarked. "Over and over again, this symbol was represented." She showed a picture to Malcolm. It looked like a triangle topped by a star. "We saw this in the tapestry in Galen's quarters, on a tapestry here in the Great Hall and it's the symbol on Merwyn's shoulder broach."

Malcolm moved in closer to peer over her shoulder. Her hair smelled vaguely of rot and sweat; she probably had just brushed it thoroughly when she changed, instead of washing it. He realized he probably didn't smell any better after his exertions, but she didn't seem to notice. He tried to stop breathing and concentrate on the pad. The symbol she showed him was represented in several cave drawings that Andie had captured on her machine.

"If this tower exerts a force powerful enough to unmake the world, this could be a possible explanation for the electrical interference that mucked up our communications in the first place," he mentioned.

"You think it's still active?" Andie queried, glancing up at the sheer stone that rose above the Watchtower fortress. "All this time without any maintenance, you think it might still work?"

"The people of Renaisterre seem to think so, even if they don't know what it does anymore," Malcolm mentioned. "We should find out before someone finds the key and turns the thing on."

"How are you going to do that?" she asked.

"I'll have to go down to the source," he told her, tapping her pad with his finger to indicate that he thought he should investigate the caverns himself.

"How are you going to protect me if you're down in the dark tunnels?" she shot back tartly. Instantly she regretted it. He would think she was irresistibly drawn to him; the thought made her eyes roll.

Malcolm smiled reassuringly. "I think you'll be just fine," he told her. In spite of his reassurances, she withdrew. He watched it happen; in seconds her face had closed itself off from his interpretation. She moved away from him with her shoulders stiff and assumed a politely distant expression.

"Of course I will be," she answered firmly. "I can take care of myself."

"Andie!" Malcolm reached out a hand to her.

"You may refer to me as Lady Andrea," she told him with a tilt to her mouth that managed to be not quite a smile.

He'd made a mistake talking about leaving her alone in the same breath he promised to take care of her. He could see that now. He'd like to explain further that this was something that had to be done, and that she shouldn't worry; it was just part of the way that he would look after her safety. But it was too late; her defenses were up again, just as strong and impenetrable as the stone walls around the castle.

Captain Archer interrupted anything further that might have occurred between them. "Chang thinks that Galen's forces might be closer to breaching the bridge than we thought. I'm going down to take a quick look. It's possible I might be able to talk him out of attacking, based on my previous encounter with him. I may have saved his life; he owes me."

"When you speak with Chang, ask him to hand over his reinforced vest," Andie told him quietly. She didn't flinch under his irritated gaze, which flickered quickly to the lieutenant next to him. "You could benefit from it."

"I don't think we have much to worry about," Archer countered. "Trip and T'Pol are working on a rescue plan as we speak. We just have to hold out a few more days."

Andie raised her chin stubbornly. "You'd better be wearing a vest when you come back or else," she threatened evenly.

"Can I get you anything else, Your Highness?" Archer snorted.

Her gaze wavered dismissively over Reed's still form. "No," she refused frostily. "I have everything I need."

"Then you won't mind if I ask a favor of you?" Malcolm requested. If rain poured out of the sky at this moment, she might drown with her nose so high in the air. Her cool gaze waited patiently. "I think we could use a distraction to cover our exit."

"Give me ten minutes," was her reply. She gathered up her skirts and sailed away, down the steps and across the courtyard, heading for the foremost wall walk.

"What got into her?" Archer grumbled.

"I think I hurt her feelings," Malcolm remarked, feeling his cheeks heat up.

"You're spending a lot of time with the Doctor," Archer remarked. "How's that working out?"

"Aside from being undisciplined, uncivilized and uninhibited, she's been a real peach," Malcolm grunted.

"Uninhibited?" Archer caught the last word and smirked. Malcolm seemed unflappable; it seemed difficult to believe that anyone would try to seduce him away from his duty.

Malcolm flushed a deeper red. "She's reckless, sir," he amended, not wishing to speak of the way she tried to distract him with kisses instead of requesting aid or relinquishing power.

One lone sound pierced the air around the fortress. It was a single note, held for an extended period of time, rolling around the rock walls of stronghold and mountain. Once more the ground shuddered with the sound, barely trembling in response. That one note gathered a lot of attention before it slid into a series of lyrics familiar to fans of rock music.

"That sounds like our distraction," Archer noted. "Is that a song or just noise?"

Malcolm listened intently. "That's definitely music, sir. I think it's an old earth song. Some of the night clubs back home have instigated a revival of the early rock gods. I can remember dancing the night away to something like that not so long ago."

"It just sounds like noise to me," Archer sighed.

"You know what they say, sir," Malcolm couldn't resist the dig. "If it's too loud, you're too old." He grinned ingenuously. "Not that I think you're too old, sir," Reed amended when the captain didn't laugh.

Although he didn't respond to the barb, a frown crept across Jon's face. "We should get ready," Archer advised, offering a heavy cloak to the lieutenant. Not only would it keep him warm, but it would also camouflage his white shirt sleeves in the dark. Most of the population had gathered in the first courtyard, gazing up at the vocalist in varying degrees of adoration and abhorrence. Andie didn't seem to notice them, just kept emitting words and phrases to entrance those below. Aside from that first rumble, the earth beneath their feet remained steady.

To Malcolm's amusement he noted that she'd switched to Goth-Punk bands, songs that had lyrics calling for greater accountability in the leaders of the day. He led Archer through the nearly empty area in front of the Great Hall and down the twisting staircase to the underground cistern. It didn't take much work to find the entrance that Andie had used to enter the castle from outside. It was very cold down there and in spite of his heavy layers, Malcolm shivered.

Once they were down there, they lit a pair of candles that Archer produced from his pocket and tried to determine which direction to go. "I guess we should have asked for Andie's pad," Archer remarked ruefully.

"I don't think we'll need it," Reed remarked. He'd seen something interesting on the cavern wall. At the corner of the remarkably smooth surface, he saw a familiar pattern of dots and dashes committed to the wall via a thick, black permanent marker. "Dr. Andie knows Morse code." He lifted his candle higher. "She marked this tunnel as the way to the well, according to her notes. It's a cistern, actually, but I don't think that matters."

"Undisciplined, uncivilized and uninhibited but at least she knows how to mark a map," Archer commented.

"Yes, sir," was Reed's only reply. They continued on, following the path set before them by the doctor, keeping an eye on markers that would lead them to the marines.

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Six: Night_

"What did he say?" Trip demanded an answer.

T'Pol lengthened her stride, hoping to out distance him until he lost interest in answers. The engineer once more proved remarkably single-minded in pursuit of his prey.

"T'Pol!" He reached out and grabbed her arm, bringing her to a halt.

She knew it wouldn't do any good to try and outrun him. The relay stations had made deception obsolete; too many crewmen knew exactly what Archer had said, even though she had been offered some modicum of privacy while they spoke. The conversation had been short; both conveying the most crucial information with a minimum of words. Archer told her he was stuck in the stone city until a woman no longer need protecting and she had told him about the explosive escape pod option. Archer broke her heart then, when he told her that Trip was the man to send to _Enterprise_ with the pod.

"The captain seconded your bid to ride in the Pod, assuming you can make it space worthy," she retorted tartly. "He also recommended Ensign Mayweather to pilot and insisted that you take MACO's with you."

"Is there some reason that's got you all hot under the collar?" Trip inquired. He could see by the thin line of her full lips that she wasn't pleased with the pronouncement.

"I believe it would be difficult for anything to become overheated in this environment, Commander," T'Pol rejoined stiffly. The disappearing sunlight left the world chilly and she was struggling not to shiver in the cold.

"Well then, you're doin' a might fine impersonation of it," Trip opted to tease her a little. She didn't seem to be in any sort of mood to banter.

"You have a task to complete, Commander." The Vulcan moved away from him, heading once more toward her pod to meditate.

Tucker watched her go with a frown on his face. She was particularly moody tonight. Across the clearing, he caught the eye of Ensign Sato, who raised one eyebrow and gently tilted her head. This was the weirdness she had sensed in T'Pol earlier. This is what she'd tried to warn him about. If only he knew what the hell it meant. With a heavy sigh, he realized he didn't have time to wonder. He had to build an engine from scratch. The commander headed back toward his own pod; just not the one that would let him rest.

* * *

_Underground Tunnels_

_Day Six: Night_

Snippets of sound followed Malcolm into the earth when he left the MACO relay station. In some places he could hear her singing just as clearly as if she stood next to him, but in other places the sound faded away and he would find himself humming the rest of the lyrics when he knew them. Styx followed Frank Sinatra who came after a trio of Neil Diamond who trailed P'Nung, a Vulcan lyricist specializing in peaceful desert meditations. There were sections from Rockonica and Mercury Rage, the latest bands to hit the airwaves back home. She had an extensive knowledge of music and he was amused to note that all the melodies she chose had some version of peace on earth, brotherhood toward men and love one another as their main theme. It had become a game to try and guess the music she chose, something to pass the time instead of thinking about how dark was the path and how dank was the passageway.

Malcolm was amazed the doctor had navigated this route; it was completely black; he couldn't see his hand in front of his face, and his pad, borrowed from Chang, barely lit up the space around him. Not only did it provide less light, but Andie's medical pad didn't have the range or precision for taking information from such a wide dispersal pattern, so a lot of details had been left out. Such as, how the walls were smooth as glass underneath their centuries-long covering of muck, or the way that the same tunnels were laid out in precise measured grids, rather than random holes dug into the earth. These tunnels weren't created from desperation so much as they'd been created by skilled engineers and artisans. And artists had created magnificent pictures on the walls, including the triangle and star that Andie had pointed out. Malcolm got a good scan of those, hoping that Hoshi would be able to piece together a translation, and possibly tell them what they had gotten themselves into.

He reached the tunnel where Andie had found the corpse as noted by her Morse code notation on the wall, but the cadaver wasn't there. Bio-residue indicated that something with a humanoid shape had definitely rested on the ground. Next to the indentations large footprints sunk deep into the muddy floor suggested that the body had been removed. The depth of the footprints estimated the body snatcher to be large and heavy, presumably male. The only large man Reed could think of, outside the captain, was Merwyn, leader of Sadiré's soldiers. Suddenly he was afraid for Andie's safety. The aperture that would have deposited Declan in the dry river bed was littered with debris, but enough space remained open to bring fresher air into this tunnel; it also brought a sweet sound from above. Andie was still singing, apparently giving the concert of her life. He recognized an aria from an opera about the French Revolution, a plea from the lower classes for a person to step forward and lead them to safety and prosperity. Malcolm didn't know whether or not to be impressed by her knowledge of arias, having previously written her off as a rock and roll head banger, or to be aggrieved that she seemed to be taunting that other loathsome woman through melody after he had specifically told her to be nice to Sadiré.

Returning to the main tunnel, Reed began backtracking, but even the scanner couldn't help his confusion. He got disoriented and stumbled into a cavern that wasn't where he expected to find himself. It was a large room but at the moment it felt rather small and crowded due to the many barrels cluttering the space. Reed flicked his flashlight over the casks but could not detect any notation on the side to indicate the contents. Failing to find any other signs of life, he crept cautiously closer and managed to pry a lid off of one of the containers. The bitter smell of sulfur contaminated his nose. Choking back the urge to cough, he tried the next container. It was full of a pale red substance his scanner acknowledged as phosphorous.

Malcolm was getting a very bad feeling about this. Before he could open any more drums he heard a soft shuffling noise; feet were picking their way through the damp earth toward this room. Reed only had a few seconds; it could be the captain come to find him or perhaps someone less helpful. He couldn't take the risk. Ducking his head and backing away, he found a niche in the wall and turned off both his light and his mechanical device and prayed that he would remain undetected.

A tall figure came into view, covered from head to toe in rags and filth. Another cask was balanced on his broad shoulders until the unit was dropped carefully to the ground with a grunt. The dim light offered by the torch he carried did not reach Malcolm's hiding place. The man spoke with the thick, choked voice that all the inhabitants had.

"It's done. You got it yet?" The voice was deep and harsh, echoing faintly around the hollowed out room. He spoke again. "Well hurry up." There was a familiar click as something snapped shut and the big man trudged out of the room and into the darkness of the corridor outside.

The familiar sound was one Malcolm recognized, and had longed to hear for several days; it was the sound of a Starfleet issue communicator being snapped shut. Whoever this man was, he was communicating with a partner via the technology that had been snatched from them in the woods. He placed his hand on the wall to steady his shaking knees as he stood up. Just as he regained his feet, the world lurched suddenly and he lost his balance, reaching out to the wall to secure his footing before he tumbled to the ground.

Something under his hand moved.

Malcolm bit back a cry of surprise and when nothing further happened, he risked turning on his flashlight in order to get a better look. The moving object under his hand was a button. An actual button, he considered with awe. Not the kind of button that held your shirt together, but the kind that you might press in the turbo lift to get from one place to another. There were buttons on the smooth man-made wall. Several of them grouped together, which Malcolm discovered when he used his hand to wipe away some of the muck. He pulled out his scanner and sought more information from the blue LED screen.

Just in case the world around him wasn't weird enough, Malcolm discovered that the niche he was standing in was actually the stationary car of an elevator.

There was an elevator in a medieval village.

Too bad there wasn't more time to consider the possibilities there. He heard the shuffling thump of boots heading back in this direction and he couldn't tarry. He had to get back to the surface and warn the others about the rest of his findings.

* * *

_The Watchtower:_

_Day Six: Late night_

Malcolm was out of breath when he finally entered the castle walls. Now that he knew he wasn't alone in the secret tunnels, he took greater care in skulking back to a known place, checking around corners and proceeding with caution. It took more time than he would have liked to get back to the narrow entrance leading to the cistern. Once he was inside the chilly room, he didn't waste time by lighting a candle, preferring to feel his way along the wall and up the circular stairs.

Outside the air was bitterly cold, open to the freezing wind that blew down the sheer mountain cliffs behind him. He paused in the shadows, making certain that he wasn't followed before venturing further into the courtyard. In fact he kept close to the darkness, slipping from one dim area to another until he was standing inside the main ward. Most of the villagers had set up temporary dwellings here and were currently loitering off to one side, gathered around several metal barrels that contained fires for keeping warm. Most were sitting down, a few standing in the back rows. And Dr. Andie was leading them in a round of song.

She was having a ball, from the look of it. Their rough voices could peel paint off the walls, but it didn't seem to faze her at all. She waved her arms around, leading them in a series of verses that sounded like "_Chimichanga ganja wanna wanna bom_," while periodically pointing at a pair of young men, allowing them to keep time by whacking on the nearest fire barrel with sticks. When they reached the last stanza of _chimichanga ganja wanna wanna bom_ the crowd held its breath as Andie pointed at an old lady who pursed her lips before whacking a small bowl with a wooden spoon. Andie threw up her hands in victory and cheered loudly. "Wahoo!" she squealed with a wide smile. The crowd burst out into abrasive laughter, including a small spattering of applause. Some people shuffled around, filling mugs with something from a jug, while other just stretched their legs. For a moment, Malcolm forgot what he'd come to tell her; he just stood amazed at the progress. Nearly sixty people, who hadn't been certain they liked her that morning, had gathered around her like they were old friends. She wasn't just making music; she was making them a part of it. And they basked in the warmth of her adoration of them. Her father was right; she had the damndest...something.

Andie caught sight of him, and gestured to the two young men to keep banging away on their gong while she delicately lifted her skirts and went to see how Malcolm fared. By now she'd caught the hang of walking in the long garment and she didn't falter over her hem once.

"Good evening, Lieutenant." She greeted him warmly. Andie even leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss on his filthy cheek. "It's good of you to join us."

"We need to talk," he murmured.

"Talk here," she commanded, the smile on her face never faltering. "The people should not see that you are worried."

"The body's gone. There's someone down there, and he's storing up barrels of chemicals. Have you seen the Potter's among your fans?" He inquired, pasting on a relatively polite expression of his own.

"The Potter's?" Andie queried.

"The couple that watched me make an explosive compound at their table the other night." _Had that really been just yesterday evening? It seemed like so much had happened since then._ "Have you seen the Potters?"

"They are not among my fans," Andie answered. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I don't think our hostess is actually going to need a key for much longer. She's just going to knock the wall down with a compound whose recipe I offered to them on a silver platter!" He leaned in still closer. He was positively crooning in her ear. "We have to get out of here right now. Let's go get the captain and duck out through one of the secret tunnels."

"The captain's not here," Andie announced. "I thought he was with you?"

Reed had a very bad feeling taking up residence in his stomach. "He stayed with the MACO's, to confer with the Hollow. I searched the tunnels a bit more. They were all gone when I came out. I assumed they had come back here."

Andie's face hardened into stone. "I swear I'm going to put a homing beacon in his ass the next time I give him a physical! This is the second time he's gone walkabout in a matter of days!"

"This doesn't change anything," Malcolm resisted the urge to agree heartily. "We have to get you out of here." He reached out to take her arm, but Andie just dug in her heels and refused to budge.

They could hear the conversation in their heads, parts they had chosen to play so many times before. He would tell her to leave and she would refuse. He would insist and she would get snotty. He would make threats and she would tell him to bite something or kiss something or choke on something; whatever she rejoined with it would not be pretty or comfortable. They had had the same conversation too many times and neither one wanted to repeat it again.

"I'm not leaving them, Malcolm," she said simply.

"You'll most likely die here," he warned her.

"I've been dead before," she said with a small smile. "It doesn't stick."

Their conversation was interrupted by a cry from the tower walk. "Lady Andrea, a light approaches!"

With a quick look at Reed, Andie hiked up her skirts and skipped up the stairs to stand on the stone walkway beside her charge. The villager pointed and Andie and Reed peered out into the dark night. The villager offered to share his long tube, fixed with sheer globes at the end. The rudimentary telescope was sufficiently powerful to see all the way to the bridge.

The area on the far side was illuminated with dozens of flaming torches. _Esthers_ loitered around in the chilly air, waiting patiently in the harnesses of the flat-bottomed wagons that trailed behind them. Around them men worked frantically, chopping the wheels off the wagon beds and using thick ropes to drag them forward. Once in place, the men were bending over and pounding the edges with thick hammers. They were patching the hole in the bridge and they were almost across.

"Damn, they're fast!" Malcolm breathed. "They'll be across by morning." He glanced at his companion. "We should be out of here by then." He knew it was futile but he had to say something.

She was particularly stubborn. "I'm not leaving them," she retorted in a choked voice. Tomorrow she would be in the midst of a war with a larger and better equipped foe, and the thing she wanted to do was flee, just pick up her skirts and run for the hills. But she couldn't leave these villagers behind. These people didn't ask to get stuck in the middle of a battle but they had no choice in the matter. They were scared and they were worried and they were dignified and proud people. There was no way she could leave them behind.

"You should go," she told Malcolm, envious of his ability to walk away if he wanted. "You should find Archer."

He continued to look at her in disbelief.

"I'll be safe here behind the walls that you secured today. Go find him. I'll be here when you get back." Andie urged him away.

"Don't do anything stupid," he warned her under his breath.

"Never!" she vowed. "I'm too clever by half!"

Malcolm rolled his eyes to show her how she annoyed him, but when he turned away his expression returned to grim. He was leaving her again. She would be alone and unprotected without him. But the captain was missing and he was injured; that took precedence over a well-defended fortress. "I'll be back," he promised.

"Don't threaten me!" she teased. He stepped away and she turned her gaze back to the commotion on the bridge. She just couldn't bring herself to watch him walk away again. Of course, she didn't have to look at him to hear the thump of his boots fading away in the distance. The night breeze bit clean through her gown and cloak and Andie shivered.

Now there was nobody to help her except herself. It was just what she wanted, but she'd never expected to feel this lonely. She turned back to the waiting crowd. "Who wants to hear a song about a guy named Bobby McGee?"

The villagers nodded and cheered and lifted their glasses, assured that she was not worried and that should not be either. It was going to be a long cold night. Hopefully not the last one for any of them.


	18. Chapter 18

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 18

* * *

_The Watchtower_

_Day Six: Late night_

A chill wind blew up the rocky face, causing those that stood watch to shiver. The musical gathering had broken up, and most of the peasantry had taken shelter in their hasty lean-tos, huddling together for warmth. Captain Merwyn stood beside the woman on whom his people had placed their entire fate as they watched the progressive tide of soldiers in silence. They seemed to have set up camp just over the bridge, on the far side of the village, but it wouldn't take them long to close the distance when they chose to make their move. At least there were small favors; the damage done to the bridge had weakened the span and heavy artillery, like _trebuchets_, had to be left behind.

"You should rest, m'lady," he advised cautiously his eyes sweeping the steep lane that led from the village to the Watchtower.

"I'm fine," Andie murmured without taking her eyes from the growing number of torches lighting the darkness beyond the village. A number of things were swirling around in her head as she tried to make sense of all she had seen and heard these past two day, but her countenance remained serene and her companion could make out none of them.

"Your men have deserted you," Merwyn pointed out quietly. He had not seen either the captain or the lieutenant in quite some time and he worried for her safety without her bodyguards.

"They are around here somewhere," Andie waved an airy hand, covering for their absence. "They're probably resting up in anticipation of the big day tomorrow."

"They are not in your quarters, madam," Merwyn remarked without turning his eyes from the battlefield.

"Are you watching my quarters that closely, Captain?" Andie asked. Someone who didn't know her well would mistake her tone for a teasing one, and miss the hard glint in her eye when she asked. _Someone had been spying on her rooms; she was sure of it. Was it this man? Or was it another?_

"No, madam, I assure you..." the solider stammered.

"They are probably walking the perimeter," Andie stated firmly, swallowing down the cold lump of truth in her throat. She felt reasonably certain that Merwyn was not the man who had dropped poisonous bugs into her bed; men who stammered were rarely skilled masterminds. But she was alone in this place, trapped with someone who had tried to kill her at least once. _They had left her and she was on her own! _Her inner voice railed against the desertion by her companions. She was just one woman against the whole village and that didn't give her much comfort since the villagers didn't seem to like her any better than her shipmates. It didn't sit well with her, to hide behind the invisible specter of her mates, but there was no other choice tonight. "They'll turn up eventually," she asserted with a confidence she didn't feel.

"Like your man who ran from the _ktirya_ ring?" Merwyn inquired softly.

"He'll turn up too," she added faintly, wondering how Trip was faring.

"He ran into the forest, the domain of the _ktirya_. If he has not returned by now, he may not ever do so," Merwyn suggested gently.

"Many things survive in the forest," Andie answered noncommittally. "If it's possible, then he will manage it."

"Few who enter the forest live to tell the tale," the guard muttered.

Andie considered that carefully. "A few nights ago I saw firelight in the forest. Since the forest has not burned down there must have been some who were alive in the morning to put out the flame."

"Nobody enters the wooded area," Merwyn assured her. "Long ago it was set aside for the creatures and none dare enter. The creatures hunt and kill at their whim, and all who value their lives give them a wide berth."

"I didn't realize there were so many _ktiryas_ living in the forest." Andie hadn't seen any evidence of wild animals until Androcles had jumped into their circle. And there had been no further sightings until she had been thrown in the ring. There hadn't been much in the way of paw prints or scatological remains or carcasses of former meals. The woods were not as well populated as Merwyn seemed to think.

There had been a quartet of rough men who lingered in the forest without any of the fear that the other residents had for the wooded area. And those rough men had cornered and damaged Androcles and taken prisoner the strangers they found in those woods. If citizens didn't enter the forest, then those rough men weren't part of the Watchtower lookout. Rogue agents, a plot to assassinate the king, and a high number of accidental deaths were beginning to add up to something greater. Andie's head started to ache. She shook her head to clear it. Merwyn had been telling her about the animals in the forest and she hadn't been listening. His next words summed up his feelings adequately though.

"Madam," Merwyn lowered his already quiet voice. "The world is falling apart. Old alliances are crumbling. Nothing grows in this soil. Nothing sustains here but bitterness and defeat. I think you'll find that your companions have deserted you." He turned the conversation back to her vulnerability, which was the source of his worry.

"You don't have much faith in this world, do you, Captain?" she inquired with a twist of her mouth that could be amusement or cynicism. "I used to think that there was no future worth having. Existence was bleak and the days all ran together." She looked up at him. "Until I found something worth fighting for," she went on soberly. "There is a destiny for all of us. No one is meant to just fade away." She looked out at the growing forces and wondered if that was true.

"You are the Chosen One!" he urged desperately, flinging out his arm to encompass the disorder around them. "You could unmake all of this! You could put an end to our suffering! You could make the world anew!"

"Are you so certain there is nothing to preserve? Can't you see anything to salvage?" She nodded at the valley floor. "There is something beautiful out there still. I can see the torchlight reflected in the water. See how it dances!" Her voice was soft and wistful.

"Actually, Doctor, the water line of the river is too far below the crevice to be seen. What you're looking at is, in fact, torchlight reflecting off the armor of the incoming army." Clipped British tones drifted over her shoulder and snapped her out of her doe-eyed state.

Andie nearly rolled her eyes. "You are such a spoilsport, Reed," she retorted without turning around. She was afraid he would see the relief she felt at his presence. "I prefer my version," she added just to be contrary.

"Of course you do," he rejoined with a smirk. She was really beginning to appear as though she belonged. The gown made her look like any of the maidens of the village and now her voice was as raspy as theirs after her hours-long concert. She had a gift for blending in and he hoped it would make her invisible to the forces that seemed intent on doing harm.

The woman turned her gaze to the Tower guardian at her side. "I told you my men would appear," she informed him with an arrogant tilt of her head.

"There's just the one," Merwyn pointed out.

"Perhaps it's the good one," Andie sassed him deliberately. Tossing a quick glance behind her, she snorted gently. "Perhaps not," she amended, amused at Reed's huffed response.

The captain of the guard was not so lighthearted. "If you can do something, do it now! I beg of you!" Merwyn pleaded.

Malcolm took a moment to appreciate her gift for dissembling information.

"I work on my timetable; not yours." Andie patted Merwyn on the arm. "Why don't you see if you can find my other man? I like to keep a spare handy in case of emergency."

He recognized a dismissal when it was sent his way. Nodding his head, the guardian backed up two steps before turning around as a sign of respect.

"You're back," Andie noted, without turning around to look Malcolm in the eye.

Reed stepped closer to her and she could feel the brief heat of his body through the woolen gown and her thin cloak. "I never left. They're guarding the cistern gate." He threw something over her back. "You'll catch your death of cold up here."

As tempted as she was to snuggle inside the heavy leather wrap, she shrugged it off upon recognizing the pelt that adorned the trim. "Considering my circumstances, I don't really want to reek of _ktirya_ corpse if our deadly friend ever shows up again."

"You'll freeze," he pointed out, holding onto the garment and leaning against the balustrade beside her.

"If they're guarding the cistern, how did you get in before?" Andie asked, ignoring his concern.

"I think they let me back in," he told her. "But I don't think they intend to let me out. I wandered around a bit. There are more men posted at several areas around the Watchtower, probably keeping an eye on any known exits. It's a pity; I would have liked you far from here before morning."

"We're not having this conversation again," Andie bristled. "I am not leaving."

"Look around," he told her. He was standing so close she could almost feel his breath on her neck. "It's not safe here. There are about twenty men standing guard at certain places around the fortress. They must have taken up position while you were entertaining the troops."

"Taken up position for what?" she inquired.

"That is an excellent question and I wish I had an answer," Malcolm muttered. He may have made good use of his scanner and his phase pistol, but they didn't make him feel any safer in the face of a full out war. "The armory's damn near cleaned out. They've taken up residence outside our quarters, in addition to the kitchens." Andie whipped her head around to look at him as she caught the meaning of that. "Evany's gone," Malcolm told her without waiting for the question. So's Dagmar, but where they've gone, I have no idea. Did they flee or were they taken?"

"I hope they fled," she muttered. That seemed to be all she was going to say on the subject, as she continued to stand in the semi-darkness, looking out over the valley.

Malcolm started a new conversation. "Being unable to communicate with the outside world, I can only hope that Captain Archer was successful in his attempt to reach the king." He kept words like 'half-cocked' and 'without tactical back-up' to himself, although he continued to fume about being left behind.

"So what do we do now?" she asked with a heavy sigh, finally turning to face him.

"We lock the gates and give him a chance to broker peace."

"You mean, we lock ourselves in," she pointed out.

"Better than having your cavalry rush out to defend your honor against invaders and accidentally kill the captain for standing in the wrong camp," he retorted.

Movement in the courtyard caught Andie's attention. "You should keep your distance from me as well."

"What makes you say that?" He turned his head to try and catch a glimpse of whatever made her nervous. He didn't see much.

"The Watchtower has been pretty quiet all evening. I haven't seen Sadiré much today, but if, as you say, the guards are heavily armed then something's about to go down. She's about to spring some sort of trap. Hopefully she will only be able to ensnare one of us when it snaps shut."

He looked uncertain. "What if you are the one ensnared?"

Andie laughed mirthlessly. "I wouldn't take it kindly. She'd better hope she catches you first!" She sobered. "I don't like the idea that Evany is missing. You should go look for her. She's the one who needs protecting."

"I really wish you would accept this cloak," Malcolm insisted, lifting the heavy leather garment to Andie's shoulders again. "I've left you a surprise in one of the pockets," he whispered enticingly before he slipped away, moving down the length of the wall walk before taking the far stairs to the bottom and disappearing into the darkness.

Andie pulled the cloak over her shoulders and felt something brush her hip. Using the garment to cover her actions, she slid a hand over the bulge and a smile crossed her face. "Thank you, Reed," she whispered. "It's about time you accepted that I'm good with knives." She left the slender dagger in its place of concealment as she signaled Merwyn to come closer once more and requested a tour of the perimeter while intrigue and plots danced around in her head like puzzle pieces trying to form a larger picture.

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Six: Night_

Trip Tucker was still working, although the hour had passed midnight and was moving back toward dawn. Hess and Truax had been sent to their bunk to catch a few hours sleep, but he toiled on, telling himself he'd had a long nap that afternoon. Scouts had sent back reports indicating that an army was setting up camp outside the Watchtower and he knew they were running out of time. In spite of the chill that made it nearly impossible to bend his fingers around the spanner wrench, sweat glistened on his brow. He was grateful when a steaming cup of burned coffee was held under his nose.

"Thanks," he grunted as he put down the wrench and accepted the bitter brew. His forearm hurt like hell but he managed to grasp the mug without dropping it. He was going to need another hypo-spray if he was going to keep at it.

"You are welcome," responded the Vulcan. T'Pol dropped to her knees beside him and inspected his work. "The Pod is progressing quickly," she noted, holding her mug of tea away from the electrical circuit board. _Too quickly_, she thought uncomfortably although she kept her concern to herself. There was the potential to make mistakes at this rate of speed but Archer had given the go-ahead. She could do nothing but watch Tucker try to work himself to death.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "We had a whole mess o' hands helpin' out today." Those hands were still helping out. More than the usual number of crewmen remained around the fire pits, working quietly on select pieces of the system he was creating.

Silence stretched between them as they sipped their beverages. "Have you selected your MACO team?"

"I'd like Romero," he answered without hesitation.

"That is only one marine," she pointed out.

"Yes it is," he nodded, bracing himself for the unpleasantness he expected from her. "If we get too many people in there, the thing won't take off. Romero came highly recommended by Truax, who says he's got the best fightin' skills in close quarters of any of their team. Besides we don't know if the space frogs are still on board. If they're gone we may not need a marine at all."

"You are still determined to be the one to test this project."

It didn't sound like a question but Trip answered it anyway. "There's nobody better than me. Travis can do double duty as an engineer in a pinch, and Romero will watch our backs. You still gonna let us go when we're ready?"

"I will let you go," she agreed softly.

It didn't sound like she was talking about the Pod Project, but he didn't want to risk the answer to a question he couldn't bring himself to ask either.

"Then I better get crackin'," he joked. He gulped the last of his coffee and handed the mug back to her.

T'Pol took it without touching his fingers and stood up. "You should make time for rest before embarking on this foolish mission," she stated simply.

If he didn't know better, he'd say she was teasing him. He nodded without saying anything and went back to rebuilding the Pod.

* * *

_Battle Headquarters of Galen's Forces_

_Near the Village Bridge_

_Day Seven: Early morning_

Archer was led into a pavilion on the outskirts of the circle of campfires perched on the far side of the village near the edge of the ravine. The tent was tall enough to stand in and contained a desk and a chair in addition to a narrow bunk. There were two chests that rested partially open; one containing extra clothing and another containing books and papers scrolls. Pieces of armor hung on a wooden rack at the back of the tent, laid out in preparation for use at a moment's notice. Jon couldn't help but be jealous that the temporary quarters that had been lugged over the edge of the tenuously repaired bridge for the captain of the guard were more luxurious than his own Escape Pod back in the Hollow. His hands were bound before him and he waited for the man in charge to acknowledge his presence.

Roland sat at his desk, pretending to look at a scroll in the dim light of the tent. Actually he was watching Archer from under his eyelashes, trying to get a bead on the man who strolled out of the woods and demanded to speak directly with the king, claiming to have a way into the Watchtower. He could be a spy or he could be a plant; Roland didn't know. But the man before him didn't look anything like that upstart brat's armed forces. This man had sharp features that reached out of his face unlike the hangdog expressions of every native and he stood with a posture of quiet confidence the likes of which Roland had never seen. Most people on this world were lucky to get by from one meal to another, even inside the castle walls, but this man looked more than well-fed; he looked supremely healthy. This scroll he studied wasn't forthcoming in enlightening him to the signs of the end of the world and he decided he'd stalled long enough. Roland rose to face the newcomer, sweeping his short cloak aside to free his sword in case he needed it quickly.

"You are he who attacked the King," Roland growled softly.

"I am he who helped the king," Archer corrected evenly. "I'd like to do him another favor."

"The King is not accepting any more favors from strangers this day," Roland informed him. "You have sacrificed yourself for nothing."

"I have something he could use," Archer mentioned. It was difficult to maintain a serene posture when he could feel the new bruise swelling above his eye. No matter how easy it was to be captured by the enemy, it was never easy on the body.

The king's guard paused and looked at Archer for a long moment. "What gift do you bring to His Majesty?" he inquired. He didn't think he should be indulging this enemy of the state, but he couldn't resist the question.

Jon merely looked down at his bound hands and turned the palms upward and shrugged as best he could. Obviously he meant he couldn't provide the item while tied up. Roland considered the man before him for a longer moment, trying to decide if he could trust him.

"An attempt was made on His life recently," Roland conceded. "What makes you think I would release you on your word, stranger?"

"I made certain he was cared for," Archer protested. He couldn't decide if it was a good idea to mention Andie or her break-in to the castle with Reed. She claimed to have cured the king, but this Roland seemed hostile. Maybe he was the one who had poisoned the king to begin with.

"You sent the strange woman," Roland guessed correctly.

Jon struggled not to laugh at the apt description. "I sent the strange woman," he agreed. "I understand your king is doing better?" He waited for Roland's confirming nod before going on. "I have another vial of anti-venom. He could probably use a refill by now."

This seemed far too serendipitous a chancing to take at face value. "Why are you here?" Roland queried without making a move toward Jon.

"I have measures in place that might secure a peaceful end to this conflict before any lives are lost," he admitted. "I think we could help one another."

"What do you want?" Roland asked again, a touch of impatience coloring his tone.

"I want you to hold off on delivering any physical strikes against the Watchtower for a couple of days," Archer said, feeling his heart pound against his chest.

"You think I am going to sit here and allow that whelp to ravage the Watchtower of its most prized possession?" Roland sneered.

"Sadiré won't get her hands on anything, I can assure you," Jon promised.

Roland stared at Jon for a long moment. "Your strange woman," he surmised as though that explained everything.

Again Jon chuckled. Andie was probably stranger than anything Roland could conceive of; the soldier didn't know the half of it! "I have people who can make certain Sadiré doesn't move against the king," Jon promised. His guts twisted up inside him and made his next breath ache against them. He hoped it was a promise he could keep. He hoped it was a promise that Reed could enforce the Doctor to keep. Peace had a way of coming at a high cost.

"What happens in a few days?" Roland queried.

That was a tougher question to answer. _With_ a little luck, in a few days they would be off this rock. With_out_ luck they would be trapped here for years, possibly the rest of their lives. All Archer wanted was enough time to get his people to safety. "In a few days I'll be in a position to offer you a great deal more than assurances," he hedged. "If we can't talk Sadiré down from an offensive position by then, we'll help you get to her with a minimum of losses."

Roland was tempted to allow the prisoner some breathing room. He was tempted to sit down with him and offer him a modicum of trust. Concessions could be made, possibly to unmake his bindings and offer a goblet of wine, while a messenger was dispatched to the King to bring His attention to Roland's guest. All those negotiations were frozen in place with the chill breeze that signaled someone lifting of the entrance flap and the arrival of the King's Cleric.

"Forgive me, my lord," the cleric began with hands folded inside his gray hooded robe. "I was preparing to turn in and I was hoping to secure the scrolls before my rest."

"Of course, Good Father," Roland waved the man inside and gestured to the text laid out on his desk.

The cleric kept his head down but managed to nod dutifully as he stepped toward the desk. His new vantage point gave him the perfect angle to get a look at the intruder. It also gave the prisoner the perfect glance at him.

Archer's eyes widened with surprise. "What the hell?" he queried, raising his bounds hands to point at the familiar bald-headed cleric. "That's one of the men who attacked..."

That's as far as he got. Father Baldric lunged across the desk, snatching up Captain Roland's small dagger, used for opening correspondence, from the table as he moved. Baldric brought the weapon down, but Archer's bindings caught the blow between his hands. By twisting his arms, and by extension the weapon that was tangled in them, he sent the knife spinning across the room. The bindings didn't stop the hard blow to Archer's midsection; a blow that sent stars dancing in front of his eyes with pain and made breathing difficult. From behind his back, Baldric pulled a long, curved sword. The cleric untangled it from his robes and had it raised above his head to deliver a blow that would definitely cripple, if not mortally wound, when the Roland swung his own straight sword and deflected the blow, defending the prisoner. A fist from Roland stopped Baldric from advancing on Archer and sent him reeling on his backside. The sounds of struggle brought two other guards rushing in from outside.

"Father Baldric!" Roland shouted while he kept the cleric at sword point. "What is the meaning of attacking a spy in my quarters during an interrogation?"

Baldric's face was mangled with rage, but a quick glance around at the growing numbers forced him to smooth the lines in his face to one of contrition. "Forgive me, my lord," Baldric mumbled, ever humble. "I know that you would defend the king unto your death but you consort with those that would place the king back in his death bed."

"Liar!" Archer wheezed, trying to breathe without pain. He couldn't stand upright. At the moment he was regretting ignoring the doctor's advice about taking Chang's reinforced combat vest. He should have acquired another pistol too, but he had refused the marine's offer of one since he was trying to make peaceful overtures to a hostile contingent.

"What are you talking about?" Roland demanded.

"This is one of the men who attacked His Highness three mornings prior! You must not consort with him! He must pay for his attack on His Majesty!" Baldric spat the words out with contempt. He glanced up from his submissive position to gauge Roland's acceptance of his words, but his face dropped to the floor again when Roland looked his way.

"You would attack a man in the sanctity of my chambers without my leave?" Roland repeated the question.

"Forgive me, my lord," Baldric's voice was especially harsh, as though he was spitting the words out through clenched teeth. "My passion for my king overcame my passion for reason."

"Service to the true king is a privilege that should not be taken lightly," Roland acknowledged, his voice softening, although his frown did not. "You undertake his welfare with great care, Father Baldric. Take your scrolls and return to your tent. Leave the prisoner to my care."

Baldric's eyes shifted from one man to another uncertainly. The guards standing just inside the door snapped to attention and looked only at their leader. The cleric rose from his stooped position, snatched at the delicate parchment and left the tent.

Once he was gone, Roland waved away the other guards and they returned to their sentry duties just outside. He knelt down beside Archer who had managed to get his breathing under control. "You attacked the King?" he queried.

"I was taking a walk when I saw riders attacking the king," Archer panted. "I did what I could to lend a hand. I was saving the king, not harming him."

"I have only the word of a thief to ease my mind, is that correct?" Roland lifted an eyebrow in bemusement. "How do you know the Good Father?"

"He was one of the men attacking me and my friends in the forest the morning after the king was injured."

"Perhaps he thought you were at fault?" Roland suggested. The idea that a cleric would betray everything they stood for was abysmal.

"Perhaps he was one of the men who attacked the king and he tried to kill me just now to keep you from hearing about it," Archer suggested. "If you want proof..." he forced his hand to remove itself from his chest and for his body to stand upright. "...I'm missing some equipment. It's gray and made of a hard substance and uses a blue or a red light. If he has it, you know he stole it from me in the woods."

"I cannot commit a search on a valued member of the king's clergy without his permission," Roland told him.

"Then get his permission!" Archer snapped. His body ached and he just wanted to go home and plant his nose deep in beagle fur.

It seemed to take forever for Roland to come a decision, but in reality it was probably just a few seconds. Roland moved to the opening of his tent and signaled his sentries. "Remove the prisoner. Place him in safety and guard him with your lives," Roland commanded. "If anything befalls him I will hold you responsible," he added unnecessarily.

Archer was dragged to his feet and shoved through the tent flap. He might be wrong, but it seemed that Baldric's ill-advised attack on him did more to convince the guardian that he could be trusted than anything he might have said on his own behalf.

This was going better than he expected.

* * *

_The Watchtower_

_Day Seven: Pre-dawn_

"Seize the intruder!"

Those words in that formation were never a good sign, no matter which side you were on when they were spoken. Andie knew immediately that she was definitely not on the good side. She looked up as her feet brought her off the last step from the tower walk and onto the solid ground of the outer courtyard and looked at Sadiré. "Is there a problem, cupcake?" Her droll tone did not sit well with the imminent queen. Since the dark-haired woman had called loudly enough to wake the dead, and none of these folks were dead yet, village faces appeared silently from their temporary pillows to stare at the women with their hangdog expressions.

"I have just had a vision! I know the cause of our current predicament!" Sadiré proclaimed, and the people waited silently. The dark-haired woman played it for all it was worth, closing her eyes and putting a hand to her forehead as though the premonition pained her. "I saw you standing over the bed of the king. You were in shadows. The king did not rise." Sadiré opened her eyes and pointed her finger at Andie. "You have attacked his Royal Highness! You are the reason his troops are preparing to annihilate us! You have brought misery and deception upon our heads!"

"You see all that in a vision, didja?" Andie snorted. She put her own hand to her forehead. "I see an action that has yet to come to pass. I see my foot connecting with your ass." She opened her eyes widely. "Did you see that in a vision too?" Looking around, she could see it was no joking matter; the population who just a few hours ago were laughing and singing with her, were now staring at her with thinly veiled hostility. "She could say that she's seen anything at all. Without proof it means nothing."

Sadiré's thin mouth curved into a cold smile. "You have been in the recent presence of his sovereign majesty, have you not?"

Andie frowned. 'No' might be the most useful answer, even if it wasn't the truest. For once she remained silent. It didn't matter. Her rival had come prepared.

Triumphantly Sadiré held up the gray cleric's robe that Andie arrived in. "This is from the king's personal guardians. The only way you could have acquired it was to have taken it from the cloak room."

"That's where I found it," Andie confirmed reluctantly. Her eyes scanned the crowd, but Reed could not be seen. Captain Merwyn stood nearby; he didn't seem inclined to assist her until this little drama had concluded.

"You stole a robe to impersonate a cleric so that you might get closer to the king?"

"It sounds bad when you say it like that," Andie muttered. She directed her next comment to the grouping at large. "I was trying to help him. He'd been poisoned and I was trying to cure him."

"Cure him? There is no cure for arachnidan venom that I know of! How have you come by this extraordinary potion?" She signaled someone with her chin and Andie was roughly grabbed from behind. The sound of a blade being drawn was heard and although she shrieked, she felt a jerk, just before the survival kit that she wore everywhere was ripped from her back. The hooded man who did the cutting upturned the satchel and dumped the contents over the ground. Lady Sadiré took her time in stepped carefully over to the mess, holding her violet skirts far away from the articles as though they might bite. "What is this?" she bent over and picked up a small vial with a few droplets of green liquid inside.

"Crap!" Andie sighed quietly.

"Poison milked from the deadly arachnidan!" Sadiré announced, holding the vial aloft. "Lady Andrea carries a supply with her."

The crowd gasped.

"I got that from the spiders that were dropped in my bed while I slept!" Andie hissed. "I meant to analyze the contents."

"She keeps the poison close to her!" Sadiré accused, swirling her violet skirts around so that her voice would carry to every pair of ears in the courtyard. "She will let no other hand touch her bag!"

"How is it that you know the king was attacked by arachnidans?" Andie countered with a question of her own. "Have you been in recent contact with the king? Perhaps you had a secret meeting with him?" She was just trying to muddy the waters around her rival's accusations, but it didn't seem the people were ready to believe in her.

The attack surprised Sadiré, but she didn't back down. A single gesture at the man who had taken the pack from her back brought results. He stopped sorting through Andie's belongings and began stomping through the items that littered the ground. He stepped on the single ampoule of antivenom that Andie had left along with several other vials and sundries she carried.

"You incite the _ktirya_ to riot, you stand in disguise over the king while he sleeps while carrying poisons, and you infiltrate the good people with your lies and your magical melodies! Why are you trying to bewitch them? Is your music a form of hypnosis?" There were barely audible gasps of outrage from the gathered crowd. For a princess raised in a relatively isolated civilization, Sadiré sure knew how to play to an audience.

"You're putting together a storage chamber of chemicals under the Tower," Andie pointed out. "Are you doing that for the people's benefit, or yours?"

"I do what I must to keep them safe," Sadiré retorted savagely.

"You killed Declan," Andie challenged baldly. "How does that keep any of them safe?"

Sadiré clutched her chest in shock. "I cannot hear such lies! My good father had been dead long before you arrived! What would possess you to say such things?"

"I saw the body. I saw the knife wound in his chest." The doctor glared, planting her fists on her hips.

Merwyn interrupted. "The body was left out for the _ktiryas_. Even if what you say is true, you have interrupted our laws by keeping the animals from their sacrament."

"I didn't keep anything! I stumbled over the body! Someone else was keeping it, probably to prove that Sadiré is a hateful little liar!"

"Who would do such a thing?" Sadiré asked with a gleam in her violet eyes. She seemed to feel pretty good about the direction the argument was taking.

"Lady Theia is the most likely answer," Andie answered evenly. Behind her the crowd gasped in horror.

That wasn't quite what she'd been expecting and the dark-haired woman's tirade faltered before anger replaced her confusion. "She's dead! Theia is dead! It is an abomination to consort with those who have passed on!"

"She's not dead," Andie announced in a firm but quiet voice.

For just a moment, Sadiré's eyes flickered. For just a moment she considered the possibility that her rival was telling the truth. But she recovered and carried on with her simpering indictments. "Necromancy is forbidden," she told Andie solemnly. "As is desecration of the dead and murdering the king," she added to the list of crimes.

"The king isn't dead either." The doctor tossed out that last statement defiantly. In spite of her smug tone, the princess's expression faltered slightly, and Andie took that as a sign that Sadiré had indeed expected the King to succumb to his injury.

"You have presented yourself to these good folks as the long prophesied leader…," the hateful woman continued gamely.

"Actually _you_ presented me to them as such," Andie rejoined, crossing her arms over her chest. "I was trying to leave."

Dark brows knit into a solid line. "You are a liar and a killer. And we know what to do with both." Sadiré's eyes gleamed. "Take her into custody! We will find the information we seek!"

Merwyn stepped forward, although he looked apologetic about his actions. "I'm sorry, Lady Andrea," he said.

"Touch me and I'll kill you," Andie promised him.

It wasn't the captain of the guard, but the hooded man who moved closer, the same one who tore her pack off her back. "I won't have to touch you," he growled in a cruel voice. From beneath his doublet, he pulled a silver device with which Andie was well acquainted.

"Where the hell did you get a phase pistol?" Andie demanded, hoping that Archer hadn't been jumped again. His ribs were fragile and he couldn't tolerate much more stress.

One strong hand pushed back the hood to reveal the vindictive visage of a man that Andie recognized as well. The last time she'd seen him they had struggled on the edge of a crevice, and he had fallen to his death in the dark, while she had dangled from a thorny brush by her survival kit. She had watched for his body when she and Malcolm Reed had climbed down the steep crevice, but they had not seen so much as a hair of him or his remains. The reason seemed obvious now.

_So this is what that felt like_, she thought dazedly. All those times when she reappeared somewhere where somebody thought she had perished, she had been amused to note their stunned expressions, but she could feel that she wore the same amazed look on her face. "Herak!" she breathed. "I thought you were dead. I saw you fall off the mountain."

"I fell," he agreed. "I did not die."

Relief whispered over Andie's features before disappearing behind her stone-face countenance. "Okay, then," she agreed regaining her composure quicker than most did in her position and bracing herself for what would obviously follow.

"Okay, then," he repeated the words just before he pulled the trigger. A bright burst of light flashed in the open courtyard before the doctor fell to the ground.

Merwyn stepped forward anxiously.

"We will wait out the siege!" Sadiré proclaimed to the villagers. "Soon Galen will be made to understand that we did nothing to harm him and he will take his army back to his castle and you will be free to return to your homes! I will take care of you, my friends. I will care for you as I always have. I will be your queen!" She snuck a glance at Herak and couldn't stifle the smile that crept across her face when she met his eyes although she smoothed it away as quickly as possible. "Take that away," she indicated the unconscious woman. "Perhaps she will tell us what we need to know."

Ignoring the confused and frightened faces in the crowd, she lifted her skirts and sailed back to the safety of the inner ward. Her snobbery did not allow her to look into the faces of the refugees that surrounded her, and she missed the sharp British features peering out of a grubby, hand-woven hood. Malcolm started to move forward but his path was blocked by those who had shifted position in order to clear the path for the magic-light wielding Herak, who stepped forward to glare at the female on the ground.

Captain Merwyn looked in awe at the dark stranger who had fired a burst of the sun at the gentle woman who had mourned his nephew's passing. Herak bared his teeth in a fierce snarl before yanking the fallen woman off the ground and tossing her over one shoulder. Merwyn was close enough to hear the sigh of air expelled from her lungs. He wasn't certain what had just happened, but she wasn't dead. Herak lugged the woman away from the crowd and Merwyn signaled his men to come closer.

"Follow them discreetly," he told his men. "Tell me where they go."

The men saluted and followed the others. Merwyn looked around at the villagers and saw pale worry in their faces. He could understand just how they felt. Nothing had been right in his world since the lights had fallen from the sky. Too many things were unaccountable and he intended to find the answers.

Once he passed through the archway into the inner courtyard, Herak's voice called out and his accomplice stopped just before ascending the steps that would lead to her private quarters. "She may have influenced some of those people," he growled.

Sadiré waved away his objections. "They will never follow her. I am the true Chosen One."

"Nevertheless, we need to contain them until we have the power in our grasp," Herak insisted. "Have them brought to the Great Hall. We can secure them there."

For once, Sadiré looked uncertain. "If they are in the Great Hall when the…"

"Do it!" Herak commanded in a gravelly voice. "Make them comfortable. They won't be there for long. I'll handle this interrogation myself." He shifted the female still draped over his shoulder.

"Yes, my lord," Sadiré bowed her head. She lifted her dark head to smile. "It's all within our grasp, isn't it? All those things that my mother promised me?"

There was no kindness in his dark eyes when he responded. "She faltered at the end. See that you do not." He stomped away, taking the human female with him.

Lady Sadiré took a deep breath to steady her growing excitement before signaling Captain Merwyn to come nearer.

Malcolm Reed watched it all with growing unease. As the angry man had passed by with the female over his shoulder, the tactical officer had suddenly pinpointed why he seemed so familiar. Not only was he the man who attacked the trio of human males in the forest, he was also the man lugging barrels of chemicals down in the tunnels under the city. Whatever he had planned, it wasn't a good thing, and he was in league with the crazy woman in charge of the Tower!

He would like to have staged a rescue and taken the unconscious doctor out of the hands of the monster, but the number of men who seemed to take their orders from Herak was growing. Malcolm had only one phase pistol, and Herak was evenly matched there, although there was room to be thankful for small favors. The coarse man didn't seem to know how to change the setting on the instrument to kill, but that might only be a matter of time. Any rescue operation he undertook by himself would have to be meticulously planned in order to make up for the significant numbers on the opposing side.

His mind was still racing when Merwyn came back and announced that those in the open air would be relocated to the Great Hall. As the people moved toward the large building, Malcolm was swept along in their wake. At the moment there was nothing more he could do but follow along and pretend to blend in to the background.


	19. Chapter 19

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 19

* * *

_Battle Headquarter's of Galen's Forces_

_Near the Village Bridge_

_Day Seven: Dawn._

It was somehow ironic that he'd left the confines of his Escape Pod in order to find some free space in which to think, but the places where he kept finding moments to replay recent events were inside prison cells. At least his cage was placed near a campfire where he had a clear view of the frantic passes to and fro by the inhabitants of the king's camp. There were many plans and schemes afoot.

This day was already dawning brighter than those that came before because there was a light at the end of the dark tunnel. His crew had a plan to get them out of here. Sure the plan was risky, but he'd come to know that sometimes the riskiest plans paid off. He had to believe that everything would be all right in the end. He'd come to know that his crew was the most resourceful group he'd ever met. As a captain he had enjoyed the privilege of being involved in most of those risky plans, but he was just as sure that without his leadership they would find a way to succeed and get everybody out of this in one piece. He shifted slightly and caught his breath at the fresh stab of pain in his side. His ribs were worse. The only thing left to worry about was that his crew wouldn't get him back to his ship before any more damage could be done to him. He closed his eyes, barely conscious of an unspoken plea running through his tired mind.

Archer woke from his fitful doze to a couple of soldiers pounding on the top of his cage. He was dragged out of his confinement and marched toward Roland's tent in the bitterly cold morning. Inside the tent, the air was warm from several portable braziers that served to heat the flimsy room. Roland was there, dressed to kill, in heavy leather tunic and pants. He wore a metal breastplate and a sword on his hip. Obviously they had lavatory services out here too because Roland looked fresh and clean. The reason became obvious.

King Galen was seated at Roland's table. His hands were folded in front of him. Although his skin remained pale and his eyes were lined with the strain that comes with physical illness, he was dressed regally in a thick brocade tunic and a heavy cloak. He looked tired but alert.

"May I present to you, His Royal Highness, King Galen of Renaisterre," Roland began the introductions.

"You Majesty," Archer inclined his head carefully.

"What is your name, sir?" Galen inquired. His voice was quiet, but the strength was returning to it. "We were not properly introduced the other day."

"I am Captain Jonathan Archer," the human replied.

"Captain of what?" Galen inquired.

Jon faltered for a moment on how to respond that. "I lead a group of explorers who wish to know more about the world around us," he responded truthfully.

"And this group of explorers includes a thief?" Galen asked pointedly.

The answering sigh was very deep. "She is the daughter of a very influential man and she can be hard to restrain."

"Ah!" Galen almost grinned. "I understand head-strong children. I warned Declan for years that he ought to treat his daughters with more care. But he felt that they should be strong as well. Now we all suffer from women who think they have the power to play at war like men do." He looked at his own bodyguard.

"His Majesty wishes to express his gratitude for your assistance the other day," Roland filled in. "The King is certain that your intervention was important to his survival."

"You could say he owes me a favor," Jon agreed, cutting through the flowery words. He was slightly affronted by their inability to state that without him, the king would be dead, but he supposed that it wouldn't do to tell a stranger how close the government came to ceasing to function. He guessed he wouldn't want anyone to know if he'd been close to death either. It's something he always downplayed for their sake.

"What boon would you ask of me in payment for your services, Sir Archer?" Galen inquired.

"Time, sir," Archer replied. "Just a few days of peace are all I need."

"Ask another boon," was Galen's disheartening response. Archer's confusion showed on his face and Galen went on to explain. "Scouts were dispatched last evening. They entered the forest to verify the location of the campsite where you claimed Father Baldric and others captured you and your people. They found the remains of a fire and signs of a scuffle, which seems to suggest that you are telling the truth."

"Of course I'm telling the truth!" Archer bit out. Roland made a gesture toward his sword and Archer added "Your Majesty" to the end of that sentence for propriety's sake.

"I was hoping that you were a liar," Galen answered honestly. He paused and coughed a little, the thick rattle in his lungs evidence of his weakened health. "Father Baldric appears to be the false one. It is disturbing that someone so close to my council would be working against the dictates of my office." Galen paused to sigh. "Baldric has departed my camp. He has taken the historical records that speak of the prophecy that seems to be coming to pass, back when my people believed that everything around us could be seen and touched and foretold." He sighed again and waved a hand at Roland to continue.

The soldier spoke with the clear and concise form of one performing for one's teacher. "Scouts have kept watch on the borders of Galen's kingdom ever since the caravan from the Sunderland came across the Dry Plain. They have recently seen evidence that others may have made the treacherous journey from Down Below and may be lurking out of our sight. The only place we do not have spies is in the Dark Forest, which has always been the land of the _ktirya_. If a cleric is lying, and if the spies are coming, and if the lights fall out of the sky, then we must believe that the times foretold are coming to pass. We must take a stand to defend the Tower against those who would take its treasure and use it for their own wicked purposes."

"We cannot," Galen interrupted, "spend several days doing nothing; not even to repay a debt as great as mine to you."

"I can offer you intelligence," Archer suggested. "I have people inside the Tower who would be happy to provide information about the goings-on of Lady Sadiré and those under her control."

"That female of yours?" Galen inquired with a smirk on his down-trodden face. "I would not risk my kingdom on one woman. Women are easily swayed."

"You've never met a woman as stubborn as my doctor," Archer smirked in return.

"I cannot pin my hopes on your doctor," Galen reiterated.

Archer pondered further. If he wanted to keep his people safe long enough for a rescue to be attempted, he had to do what he could to continue peaceful negotiations down here for the time being. Perhaps he had something he could offer them. "If I understand your legend correctly, Sadiré could not access anything the Tower has to offer without a key," he stated, hoping desperately that this was the right course to take.

Galen and Roland turned sharp eyes on the captain. For a moment they didn't resemble basset hounds so much as they seemed like pit bulls or the _ktiryas_. "My key was stolen," Galen spoke softly, but his eyes burned.

"I can get it back," Archer promised.

"What would you require for this act?" Galen inquired carefully.

"If the power to prevent war is back in your hands, I require only a few days of non-aggression, as previously stated," Archer bargained.

"You seek your own claim to the power?" Roland suggested darkly.

It wasn't a strain for Archer to look weary. "I don't care about your Tower," he answered honestly with a shrug. "I just want to be free to walk away from all of this."

Both the king and the guardian looked hard at Archer before looking askance at one another.

"How soon could you procure this key?" Galen inquired with his best attempt at nonchalance.

"As soon as I could get word to my people in the Tower," Archer stated without hesitation.

The king considered the proposal. It was dangerous to allow anyone else to believe they could take from the Tower without retribution, but time had grown short. Indulging this man, who had helped him out recently, could mean the difference between success and failure. He decided to take the risk and hope that the stranger would help him again.

"You may remain here that we may consult with you about retrieving our lost property," Galen announced, using the royal designations. "But you will not be free to roam until we are assured of our faith in you."

Archer thought about that. It seemed as good an offer as he was going to get. "Fine," he agreed.

"What will you require to send your messages?" Roland asked, taking his cue from his leader.

The three men exchanged conferences for another hour before a second table was brought in and breakfast was served. Archer thought alien food had never tasted so good.

* * *

_Great Hall_

_Day Seven: Morning_

Every peasant ushered into the room had taken one look at the many tables piled high with foodstuffs of all kinds and fallen onto the feast as though they were close to starving. Reed himself had reached out for a leg of meat automatically, thinking that he ought to keep his strength up for what was to come. The steaming meat was nearly in his mouth before he paused. Dagmar was the cook for the Tower and she had gone missing. Who had done the cooking of the massive feast? Shaking his head he cursed Andie's overactive sense of self-preservation for toying with his mind. She would never touch this food, in the event that it might be contaminated.

She might not be wrong.

Malcolm looked around. Every one of Steward Declan's loyal followers was locked in this room. If Malcolm had been the one to kill the Steward and wanted to get rid of any resistance from those who might have been loyal to the man, he might lock them in a room with poisoned food. It would certainly clear the path for another leader to step in without opposition. All the folks around him chewed, smacked and bolted down food without consideration for the consequences. If something had been poisoned, he was certain that he would know about it by now. Someone would have dropped.

But now that the possibility was in his head he couldn't put the drumstick in his mouth in good conscience. Regretfully he eyed the meat one final time before dropping it back onto the table. Malcolm wondered if Andie had shown this kind of reluctance when dining on _Enterprise_, even though she should have been surrounded by allies. One of the first things she had done, he remembered, was to go visit Chef. Had she been sizing up his potential possibility to kill her? Living among pirates must have scarred her deeply for her not to take even the basic food requirements without suspicion.

Speaking of the doctor, he had to find a way to get to her. Carefully he moved through the crowded room, pretending to maneuver closer to a tender morsel, while darting his gaze around the room. The only guards were at the main doors, and they only looked up at persons stepping too close to their position. He could reasonably certain of their inattention and he hastened his movements, closer to the far end of the room.

_That would bring him to the kitchens_, he acknowledged. Possibly whoever had made this fine meal might still be in there and in league with the imminent queen, but he realized he didn't have a choice if he didn't want to attack the two guards at the main door and risk alerting the rest of the garrison that he was not as compliant as they might prefer.

As he took one last look around to determine if his movements had been detected, he found the distraction he was looking for in a bone-chilling reaction. One of the villagers, whose face and vestiture were covered in the remains of his feast, clutched the table in front of him in an attempt to remain on his feet shortly before he slumped to the floor, dragging a nearly empty platter with him. There were cries around him and others reached out to help. Malcolm risked one last look to make certain the guards were looking at the fallen man before taking quick steps up the final dais and pushing through the door that would lead directly to the kitchen. It was regrettable that he couldn't make a firm determination about what might have caused that man to fall, but if he didn't take the chance to escape that was presented to him, it was possible that more people would suffer greater pains. He leaned his back against the galley door and listened. No hue or cry was raised and he believed he had gotten away with it. There were no other sounds of villagers collapsing either and he took that as a good sign. He exhaled heavily and looked around; there was nobody here, although debris on the counters suggested that someone had been there recently.

Reed moved quickly around the room, searching for signs of a struggle or something more unpleasant. He didn't know whether or not to hope he'd find something. A struggle might mean they had the true daughter of the Tower, but no signs of struggle would mean that he didn't have a single clue where the two women might have disappeared. His hand brushed against a wood-handled knife, laid down next to a pile of hard, dirty vegetables. Puzzlement etched his brows; he'd spent some time in kitchens now and again and to cut such formidable objects, he felt certain the cook would want a sturdier butcher's knife rather than this shorter paring blade, but there was no time to disparage the present cook's choice. He heard voices outside the door.

"_He went in there,"_ someone insisted.

Malcolm backed up, hoping to put off his discovery by the wrong men. His hiding choices were limited in this narrow room. He could hide behind the stack of firewood and hope they didn't take more than two steps into the room. He could hide under the counter and hope they didn't bend over to look underneath. Or he could slip inside the narrow opening that led to the dry pantry. It wasn't much of a hiding spot, but he had run out of options.

The room was nearly empty of food stuffs but large bags of dry goods rested on the floor around the room. One held flour and another held beans. It may have been filled to overflowing in times of prosperity but there was no prosperity to be found on this dying world. The fields didn't offer enough goods to fill even half the room. There were no bins or containers large enough to hide behind. He tried to move quietly through the dim space, keeping his face toward the entrance. His back hit the stone wall behind him and he tensed when he heard the shuffle of foot steps moving toward the portal.

He would be discovered. At least he stood a good chance of finding the doctor; it was likely they would keep all their prisoners in one place. That didn't mean he had to go down easily. Shifting his back from the wall, he assumed a pugilist's stance, waiting for his opponent to show his face.

There wasn't any time to react when a hand reached around his back and covered his mouth, surprising him for there had been nothing but a stone wall there. He choked on the dusty powder that clouded his nose. He would have struggled harder were it not for the hefty butcher's knife that settled coldly against his neck; a knife worthy of hacking into those hard lumps of vegetables on the kitchen workbench, he noted. Confident that he wouldn't scream the first hand slid down to settle around his chest and he was dragged backward, through the portal that swung closed with even less sound that it had made when opening behind the alert armory officer, leaving the dry pantry as empty as he had first found it.

Malcolm Reed found himself in a narrow tunnel, barely wide enough for his shoulders to span. He was facing a female with large eyes and a curious expression. She placed her fingers over his lips to indicate the continued need for silence. The lieutenant nodded carefully to show he understood and the soft hand withdrew. The knife didn't leave his throat however, and it was cool against his skin. From their hiding place they could hear the soft scrape of footfalls on the other side of the door. Eventually the unintelligible buzz of voices grew softer and it could be assumed that the intruders found nothing in the pantry and headed back to the kitchen. The young woman in front of Malcolm sighed silently.

"You must be Evany," he stated in a whisper.

She looked surprised and then frightened. "How did you know?"

"Captain Archer and Doctor Andie sent me to find you and keep you safe," he told her.

"She don't need your kind doin' nothin' for her," growled a coarse voice behind her. Over his shoulder, Malcolm could see the curmudgeonly cook thumbing the blade of her knife and glaring at his back.

"You seem to get along quite well without me," he agreed. He looked at the narrow hatchway. "How many secret tunnels does this place have?"

"Plenty," Dagmar grunted behind him. She nudged him ahead of her with her thumb. "Get movin."

"Where are we going?" he inquired politely, still using quiet tones in case voices carried through the walls.

"I'm afraid we have a need for the service you can provide," Evany told him. She delicately lifted her skirts and slipped ahead of him through the darkness.

Malcolm had no idea what that could mean, but the watchful cook with the sharp knife didn't give him a chance to object. She nudged him with the pointy end and he was forced to follow the maiden's footsteps as nimbly as he was able in the close confines of the dark tunnel that led him into further twists and turns.

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Seven: Morning_

Commander Tucker had finally given in to the pain in his forearm and headed to the Medical Tent for a hypo-spray. When he returned he found Ensign Mayweather defacing their last hope. "What are you doing?" he asked in a bemused tone. It was clear what Travis was up to; he just wanted to make the young man squirm.

Travis had become accustomed to the engineer's faux angry tone after all these years. He didn't jump nearly as high as he might have in his first year with Starfleet. "Every ship needs a name," he answered without taking his eyes from his work. "They don't function well without one. I figure we're pinning all our hopes on this little guy. He deserves a name too." He dabbed at the mark with one finger to sweep away a stray drop.

It could be blamed on Ensign Carter, whose unfortunate encounter with a bush in the forest had given her such a terrible rash. A science team had gone out to investigate the bush and discovered the bright red berries were poisonous to eat and caused many folks who handled them to sprout red, itchy bumps over portions of their body. Also when the berries were crushed together they emitted a thick dark juice that was not unlike paint; several members of the science team had fingers that were still dyed red. Travis had carefully gathered up several handfuls of the fruit and added a few drops of oil to the mash he had created by crushing them between two rocks, making a thick red dye. Currently he was engaged in painting a picture on the side of the newly redesigned outer hull of the Escape Pod, using a brush made out of a wad of cloth wrapped around a switch.

"_The Phoenix II_?" Tucker inquired archly. The wingspan of the mythical bird was a surprisingly good likeness for such an amateur artist.

"Like Dr. Cochrane's ship, the first human vessel to reach warp," Travis explained. He finally stopped working and allowed color to flush his cheeks with embarrassment when he snuck a peek at the engineer. "He considered his work to be a last ditch effort, just like ours. He didn't expect it to work, just like us. But it carried him forward to a new and better future, just like this one is gonna do," Travis finished optimistically, shuffling his feet.

Trip couldn't stop himself from stepping closer and speaking in a low voice directly into Travis' ear. "You realize this isn't just some recreation of a historical milestone. This is real. We could die doing this."

"I know," Travis protested, wilting somewhat.

"You know this is not some game we're playing? We're not bluffing here!"

"I know!" Travis agreed. "But that doesn't mean we can't encourage the same Lady Luck that took a pioneer into the stars to pay the same attention to us, does it?"

Trip looked at Travis with his eyebrows raised.

"We could use a little luck right?" Travis persisted.

Trip sighed. For all his protests to T'Pol that this was exactly the right course of action, it seemed he had doubts of his own. "We could use a lot of luck," Trip agreed. "Make it bigger," he commanded, slapping Travis on the shoulder before stepping away. He paused, turning back in time to see the ensign's relieved smile. "You can back out of this if you want," Tucker told the young man. "I won't think any less of you if you don't want to take on something this dangerous."

Travis' smile had never been wider. "I wouldn't miss this for the world, sir!" he enthused. "To be able to tell my brother that I practically recreated that first warp contact launch would make his head steam!"

Trip sighed heavily as he shook his head in amazement. Young men always seemed to be filled with more bravado than brains. He could remember what that was like, and from personal examples set not so long ago. "Carry on, Ensign _Cochrane_," he teased, moving off to check on Hess's progress with the interior controls.

* * *

_Underground Chamber_

_Day Seven: Afternoon_

Andie's eyes fluttered open slowly, taking stock of her surroundings. Listening intently she couldn't make out any other sounds. The phase pistol blast coupled with her recent long days and physical exertions had kept her out cold longer than she would have liked. The day felt old, but she couldn't be certain of the time. Time was irrelevant without a standardized chronometer anyway, she snorted to herself. There had been no further sounds. Confident that she was alone she lifted her head and looked around.

She was lying in a cage in the corner. The bone deep chill told her she was back inside the underground caverns. The rest of the room was rather well-appointed for a hole in the ground. There were a couple of tapestries hanging on the wall to keep the cold from seeping out of the rock, along with a few thread bare rugs covering the damp floor. Piles of blankets indicated that someone slept down here. A lamp hung from the ceiling over a rough-hewn wood table surrounded by several small benches for sitting. Several items she recognized littered the tabletop including her medical scanner, her tool kit and the remains of some dirty medical tape.

Shifting her weight to relieve the ache in her hip, she brushed her arms against the side of her body and she could feel the empty places on her forearms where she had stored certain things she thought she might need. The hypo-spray, the scalpel and most importantly the key were all missing; all that remained were faint abrasions where the medical tape that had held them in place had been ripped away.

"I am going to beat that woman black and blue," she promised herself groggily. Her hands were tied behind her back, but she managed to sit upright, rubbing her knees together to bring feeling back into her feet. Curses slipped out of her lips when she realized she was missing the items that had been secured to her legs too, including her dead pulse pistol. Her Klingon blade had also been removed from its place tucked into her boots and she seethed.

Muttering under her breath about the payback she would dole out when she found out who had manhandled her, she shifted her weight around until she was able to bend her knees and bring her feet under her hands in order to slip her fingers inside her boot. An unfamiliar weight at the back of her ankle produced her cautery, kept safe from search and seizure by having fallen inside a tear in the lining of her boots. With painfully short movements she was able to free it, sighing with relief when she felt its familiar cylinder inside her palm, but before she was able to make use of it she heard someone in the corridor outside.

Throwing her body to one side, she made an attempt to look as though she was still unconscious. That didn't stop the person who flung open her cage from gripping one shoulder roughly and dragging her to her feet.

"I know you're awake," Herak grunted.

Resentfully she opened her eyes. "You took my knife. I want it back," she hissed.

Herak chuckled. "Not until I get what I want," he told her, pulling her after him through the dark corridor.

Fear clutched at her heart, but Andie ignored it. "What is it you want?" she demanded, stumbling after him as best she could manage in her torn and dirty gown.

The cruel man pulled her up close and put his lips directly against her ear. "Fire," he whispered.

"Douse yourself in lamp oil and we'll talk," Andie promised. His huff of anger hit her nose with a bad smell and she flinched, an action that made him laugh. He was a man badly in need of a dentist and it wasn't pleasant.

Herak shoved her ahead of him through a doorway and Andie discovered a tall room full of unmarked barrels. There was a faint smell of chemicals under the mud and sweat that filled the room, and also something sharper, full of coppery warning. The doctor recognized the smell of blood and clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from clacking together as Herak shoved her to the ground. Andie had to keep her hands gripped close in order keep secret her medical cautery, and was unable to brace her fall. Her elbows took the brunt of the impact, and she winced at the pain of new scrapes that formed. It was another struggle to sit up with her hands tied behind her and her skirts in disarray, but she managed it with a glare for her captors.

The doctor was facing a man and a woman who had seen far more brutal tactics than a shove to the floor. The man sported blackened eyes and the woman had a cut on her lip. There was a good reason the Potters' hadn't been at her concert the night before. They were being tortured down here in the cold and lonely room. Looking around at the barrels of chemicals that Reed had identified for her, she had a good idea what information Herak sought.

"I want you to tell me how to make the powder that destroyed the bridge," Herak growled.

Andie shrugged. "I'd be happy to," she replied easily.

That was not the answer he'd been expecting. "What?" he stammered.

"I would be more than happy to provide you with a recipe that will knock your socks off," Andie smiled sweetly. "It would be my greatest pleasure," she added with a smile that could freeze the fires of Hell.

Herak looked confused.

"She speaks falsely," another voice purred. Sadiré stepped into the light, twirling a key in one hand and gripping a fine china cup in the other. Her violet eyes rolled in her companion's direction. "Why are you bothering with that filthy powder? We don't need it anymore! We have the key!" She held up the iron object in triumph.

"We still don't know where to put that damnable key!" Herak roared. "We can't find the damned lock!"

The Potters' flinched, but Andie watched with interest.

"You were supposed to find your way around this damned pile of rocks!" He went on, jabbing his finger in the young woman's direction.

She stumbled backward, spilling her tea, before gathering her courage and standing firm before his anger. "I know every nook and cranny!" Sadiré countered hotly. "My father vowed never to share the secret with anyone except the next Steward!"

"And he died before he could tell you anything useful!" Herak countered hotly.

Andie chortled, drawing both sets of angry eyes her way. "You killed Declan _before_ you got the information you needed? Hah!" She leaned in closer to Sadiré. "You're not very good at this interrogation stuff, are you, cupcake?"

"What is she talking about?" Herak thundered.

"Shut your mouth!" Sadiré threatened, moving toward Andie.

It was curious; although they were in cahoots, it was obvious that Sadiré hadn't told Herak the whole story. She could make use of that weak link in their union. "Didn't you know? She drove a knife into his chest covered with arachnidan poison. That's what killed him; not the fall." Ignoring Herak's incensed flaring of nostrils, Andie turned back to Sadiré. "He must have said something to you that made you forget to do your job," Andie pondered. "Did he tell her you weren't as good as his other daughter? Does the truth hurt?" False pity tinged her voice.

"Silence!" Sadiré crossed the room and backhanded Andie.

Painfully Andie scrambled back to her position on her knees. "Do it again, bitch," she growled, licking the blood from the corner of her mouth. "I dare you! I'll cut your face off!"

"Enough!" Herak shoved Sadiré away from the prisoner. "You were the one stupid enough to kill him too soon! Don't forget that!" he threatened the young woman, who sipped her tea vengefully instead of responding to the taunt. He turned to Andie. "If you give me the wrong formula for your fire powder you'll die down here with the rest of us!"

"As long as you go down first," Andie shrugged again. "Besides I'm harder to kill than your average _ktirya_." She smirked. "Others have tried. They have failed. So will you."

"Please, miss," the male villager begged. "You don't know what he's capable of!"

Andie never turned her steady gaze from the cruel man. "That goes both ways. He doesn't know what I'm capable of either."

Herak looked deep into her eyes for a long moment, trying to decide if she was telling tales or the truth. "If you bleed, you can be killed," he announced. Whether or not he intended it, his voice was quieter than before. He was losing steam.

"Not by you," she told him firmly.

Herak tried another tactic. "Those around you can be hurt." He grabbed the village female and pulled her to her feet in spite of her pained cries.

The woman sometimes known as the Red Dragon grew very still. "If you lay so much as a finger on them, I will decide that you are not worth saving, and then I will stop playing nice."

"You are bound and on your knees!" Sadiré hissed. "What could you do?"

Andie stared into her eyes. "You think I'm bound, trollop? You have so little imagination." A faint smile played around the corners of her mouth, but her eyes were like shards of ice.

Truth be told, her calm assurances of their death were beginning to unnerve Herak. No woman had ever faced him in her position so calmly; the women he knew were easily abused into compliance. No other woman had scoffed at his assurances of their fast approaching death; they cried and wept. No other woman had ever held in her hands a device that would spit out the light and heat of the sun, but he was wearing her device on his hip. Her confidence was beginning to rattle his certainty. She could have any number of weapons at her disposal to be so bold in the face of her torment.

And there was still another of her kind wandering around the halls of the castle. None of his men had been able to lay hands on the wiry man who'd followed her around so carefully before now. Although he'd locked everyone who wasn't on his payroll in the Great Hall he had been unable to secure the location of one man, who seemed to disappear like a wisp of smoke. Herak had men patrolling the underground tunnels but the wiry man hadn't sought refuge down here either; at least, not that Herak could tell. After all this time he still didn't know all the nooks and crannies of these old places.

Yesterday he wouldn't have worried about a pair of people throwing his carefully made plans out of kilter, but yesterday the villagers had been convinced that they should follow Sadiré. All he had to do was control one little female. Now the villagers were divided; some believed that this woman was the one in control. She had managed that without lifting a single finger. She had managed that by making sounds that no living person had ever made on this world, and the castle shook with the power of her magic. She was something to be reckoned with, he thought, as she stared at him with calm assurances of his demise on her lips. She must know something he didn't. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes. They were too close to the end.

"Why don't you finish the job you were _supposed_ to finish in the first place and find the hole that fits that damned key," Herak suggested to his cohort as he shoved the villager to the ground roughly and jabbed at the air with one finger. "Once we have control of the Power, they won't do anything to cross us." He turned on Andie. "You're getting to be more trouble than you're worth, lady." He reached out and ran one finger down the side of her face in a dirty caress. "Although I may still have some use for you," he assured her with a leer.

He bent over and dragged her to her feet. Once upright, he dragged her back down the hall to the room she'd been in before, thrusting her back into her cage and slamming the door shut with a heavy clang.

"I'll be back before you miss me," he promised, showing off his wolf's smile to hide his sudden unease. Then he left her there.

Andie huddled inside her cage and pondered something she'd discovered by viewing both Herak and Sadiré up close. They both had unusual violet-colored eyes. Herak's eyes were usually dark with rage and it had been impossible to tell their color before now, but she'd had a good long look at them this time. Another piece of the puzzle fit into place as she removed the cautery from her clenched hand and began burning through her bindings.

* * *

_Inside the Tower walls_

_Day Seven: Late Afternoon_

Evany had a gift for hiding that was truly remarkable. It was a skill that had allowed her walk away from Archer's chamber, making her way undetected to the kitchens with Dagmar. Before that it had allowed her to remain in the village next to her home without anyone being the wiser. And before that her gift had allowed her to lead her sister to believe that she had been dead for almost a year now. It was quite useful and assisted greatly by the extraordinary network of caverns that stretched out under the fortress and half the mountainside. Malcolm took a moment to be suitably impressed by her ability to glide soundlessly through the walls before she led to him to a chamber that he recognized from his first search of the Watchtower.

Sadiré's chambers were better appointed than any other in the castle and a fire burned brightly in the hearth, providing heat for the lone woman who rested there. Evany pointed Malcolm to a small hole in the wall by which he could see inside, and explained in hurried whispers that she expected him to kidnap the maid Berthelde. "I cannot do it myself," she mourned. "I have not the strength. But you do."

Reed would have protested further were it not for Dagmar's trusty butcher knife making its reappearance at his neck. He gathered Evany's promise that the maid would not be harmed and allowed the two women to open another secret doorway that allowed him to step into the room and slip a hand around Berthelde's mouth. The maid struggled and squeaked with fear and he had trouble holding on to her. Dagmar stepped up behind him and brought a heavy candlestick down on the maid's neck, dropping the woman to the ground. With belligerent eyes, she handed him strips of fabric stripped from Sadiré's bed hangings to tie the woman's hands and mouth and also to blindfold her, and then Malcolm shouldered the maid with a grimace and the quartet made their way through more secret corridors, down deep into the bowels of the earth.

The corridors were even more extensive than he had suspected, but Evany trod them with confidence, leading them through the dark tunnels that seemed full of more sounds than he had heretofore noticed. At one point, Reed reached out to touch Evany's shoulder and rolled his eyes at Dagmar's knife appearing near his jugular. He held up a hand to halt their progress and laid the unconscious maid on the ground, indicating that the three women should remain in the dark while he stepped forward to the opening of this corridor and waited, poised for action. It wouldn't be correct to say he'd heard something; rather, he just felt that something was wrong. The hairs on the back of his neck were on end. Straining his ears, he tried to make sense of the vague and distant rumblings, separating the sounds he expected to hear, like the stilted breath of those behind him, from the ones he did not expect to hear. There was the sound of a trickle of water. There was a distant rumble.

There was a slight shuffle, as though a foot shifted against wet sand.

It wasn't enough to make a determination about how far was his foe or how well-armed, but he knew that someone was out there. That was enough. He stopped worrying about the females behind him and started taking note of his immediate surroundings. Just ahead of him was a T-junction; if he had to guess, he'd say the enemy was on the right-hand side.

At least this time he was armed.

Malcolm drew his pistol from inside his rough tunic and checked the setting; it was set to stun. He took a deep breath and tamped down his rising adrenaline. Taking one more breath, he swung around the corner as he dropped to his knees.

There was nobody there.

Once more he froze, straining his ears into the darkness, intent on hearing that bare whisper of a sound that told him he was under surveillance. There was nothing. He could only assume he was alone again. It made him nervous, creeping about in the dark. Although he had an accomplished guide to map the surroundings and a phase pistol to keep him safe, he couldn't help but shiver at the thought that there was someone else down here who knew this place better than he did. The memory of the great _ktiryas_ with their sharp teeth gave him pause. Perhaps it was some_thing_ down here, not some_one_. He pulled his scanner out of his waistband and ran the machine over the floor which was equal parts sand and mud. There was no sign of the three-toed imprint the carnivorous beasties left behind.

He had to conclude that they were alone and that he was imagining things. Malcolm sighed. He wanted to get back to his ship and his armory, where things made sense. He turned back to the women and shrugged, earning another dark scowl from the cook, not that she knew any other kind of look, and a wide-eyed fearful stare from the young lady. Ignoring them both, he lifted the third woman over his shoulder again and indicated with his head that Evany should continue to lead them on.

It seemed to take forever, this furtive shuffling through dark corridors, some of which had suffered structural damage. Sometimes debris littered the openings and Evany would sigh and lead them in a different direction. Eventually they came out in the small hut where he had found Archer when they conducted their search of the village, climbing out of a hole in the floor into a small pantry. Reed boosted the ladies up, before double checking the corridor behind them, thinking he heard something again, but finding nothing. Finally he pulled himself up and closed the trap door, making certain to flip the lock closed.

The room was cold without fire, but Evany and Dagmar provided cured meat and dry chunks of something bread-like to boost their flagging energies. They all washed down their snack with something that looked and tasted like dirty water. It made his head spin though, so it must have been well-aged liquor.

"I had to save you," Evany told him shyly as she watched Reed gulp the last of his meal. "They are looking for you and your kind. They think you have the key and they would commit unspeakable acts upon you if they thought you would tell them where it is."

Dagmar muttered "Waste of time" under her breath and was ignored.

"Why kidnap the maid?" Malcolm inquired, feeling better now that his stomach was full. He hadn't worried about this food because Evany and Dagmar both ate from the same source.

"Sadiré can't See without her," Evany stated as though it was obvious.

"I don't understand," Malcolm frowned.

"The Gift her mother had skipped a generation. Sadiré can't See the future. Berthelde is a distant cousin from the same family line. She has the power of Sight. Sadiré has been using her to convince the people that she is the Chosen One." Evany stroked the maid's hair softly, her gentleness at odds with the act of violence that had brought the woman with them in the first place.

"But wouldn't such a powerful Seer notice that the true Chosen One is just sitting around in this hut on the edge of the village?" Malcolm inquired. "Lady Theia, why haven't you taken Berthelde out of the equation before now?"

Both the cook and the young woman froze for a moment, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "How did you know I am Theia?" the woman asked.

"Andrea found your father's body," Reed answered. "She compared your DNA with his and yours was a match." Dagmar and Evany, or rather Lady Theia, just looked confused by his explanation. He decided to skip the science lesson and continue with the problem at hand. "What do you intend to do with the maid now?"

"There's a big crate back there," Dagmar snorted, with a jerk of her thumb. "I'd be happy to leave her locked up in it."

"We can't do that," Evany corrected her guardian with some small exasperation.

"She'll fit!" Dagmar pointed out indignantly.

"I thought we should turn her over to the care of King Galen," Theia turned back to Reed.

"Who would take her to the king?" Dagmar grunted.

Theia turned her wide and hopeful eyes toward Reed.

"Why don't you take her? You could use some protection yourself," Reed pointed out.

"I cannot leave. My people need me, now more than ever," Theia admitted.

He was rubbing his hands over the pain pounding at the bridge of his nose before he realized he had a headache. _Heaven save him from women who were convinced they were the only ones who could do good things!_ He kept that thought to himself. Out loud he asked, "What are _you_ going to do?"

"I am going to request that you, Sir Reed, take the maid of my enemy to safety in my King's camp," Theia told him with a smile, willfully ignoring his request for information.

He was already shaking his head. "I have to get back in there and save the doctor," he told them. "There's no telling what Herak might have done to her by now."

"I can maneuver through the tunnels without being seen. I have done so many times. I vow that I will find your doctor and return her to you, if you will escort this woman into the company of the king." Her eyes widened as she chewed on her lip fetchingly.

It was Malcolm Reed's personal Kryptonite; a woman requesting assistance. There was no way he could walk away and allow Berthelde to remain with these women, although he was mostly certain that Theia wouldn't really allow Dagmar to lock the maid in a trunk. But at the same time he couldn't leave the rescue of the doctor up to somebody else, and he couldn't risk the life of the young woman in front of him by leaving her to wander the dangerous tunnels alone. Never before had he wanted to be in so many places at once.

"If you will wait here until I return, I will take the Seer to the king and then return to escort you back into the Tower, where you can help me locate the doctor."

Theia exchanged looks with Dagmar. The cook jumped in with enthusiasm, choosing for both of them.

"She accepts!" Dagmar crowed. She tossed an apologetic look at Theia. "You shouldn't be going anywhere alone, and this young buck has offered to look after you."

"Apparently it is settled," Theia smiled softly although her eyes remained troubled.

A squeak from the direction of the floor brought all the attention to the maid, who was just now waking from her unplanned nap. Her blindfold had shifted during transport and she peered blearily out from under the fabric with one visible wide eye. She took one look at the Lady Theia bending over her and struggled with her bonds while squeaking with fear.

Malcolm reached out and pulled the rest of the blindfold off, and then kept his hand over the cloth that gagged her cries. "You have to be quiet," he informed her.

Berthelde's eyes darted at him for just a moment before nodding an assent. Reed pulled the cloth away and helped the woman to sit upright where she looked around her in amazement. Licking her dry lips now that her gag was removed, she looked once more on the young woman at her side. "You are Lady Theia," she croaked. "You are not dead?"

"I am not dead," Theia confirmed, offering a cup of dirty head-spinning water to clear the maid's head.

"Thank the stars!" Berthelde sighed, ignoring the proffered beverage and falling forward to drop her head on Theia's knee while Reed attempted to unbind her hands. "I thought I was losing my mind, as Lady Letizia did, by seeing your face in portents where you should not be if you were passed out of this life!"

"Letizia lost her mind?" Reed inquired, tossing away the unnecessary bindings.

"She was prone to frequent fits of temper, she saw images in the darkness and she engaged frequently in unprovoked violence," Dagmar filled in. "The lady lost her reason near the end of her life. It's what caused her to drink poison when she thought she was reaching for a cup of herbal brew."

"Lady Sadiré is growing angrier with every passing day," Berthelde advised, rubbing her arms to bring feeling back in them. "I thought it was due to her inability to win over the populace, but you are correct; she has grown into her mother's daughter." Now that she was out of her bonds, and reassured that Theia was no ghostly apparition, Berthelde seemed more than happy to chat about Sadiré's personal ways.

Malcolm reminded himself never to get a maid. They talked too much. Although in this case, it seemed to be working in his favor, he acknowledged. "We should get started," he advised.

"After dark you will make your way to Galen's side with the aid of Lord Reed," Theia advised Mistress Berthelde, as she offered her food and drink. "You will be safe with His Majesty."

"What will you do, my lady?" Berthelde inquired fretfully.

"I will wait for my guardian's return that we might free the others who are enslaved," Theia announced, lifting her chin to look directly at Reed.

The hair on the back of Malcolm's neck twitched again. He had a feeling deep in his gut that she had no intention of waiting for him. As soon as he slipped away with Berthelde, she would disappear down that hatch and be gone. It wouldn't be the first time a woman had lied to him this week. But then he didn't have much choice in the matter. He had already given his word to escort the Seer to the King. Just because her word was faithless, didn't mean he had to follow suit.

Malcolm watched the passing of the sun fretfully while the women chatted.

* * *

_Galen's Battle Headquarters_

_Day Seven: Evening_

Archer stood at the edge of the settlement, looking far up the steep incline at the fortress that loomed over his head. He had just about run out of time and he knew it. Galen had allowed him to send word to the MACO team waiting at the tunnel opening. They were told to signal the captain when they noticed either member of the human team within sight of their encampment. Neither Chang nor Riley saw anything other than teams of men dressed in black patrolling the Tower walks. Behind him Jon heard the soft shuffle of people straightening up and drawing to attention which told him that the King drew near.

"You have been unable to contact your people inside the Tower," Galen remarked, halting at Archer's side. "I'm afraid that I cannot wait any longer. I have sent a messenger with a bid for surrender. If Sadiré refuses, I must take action."

"Give them a little more time," Archer begged. He hadn't thought twice about leaving them behind to come here and speak with the King, but the longer this went on, the more they talked of warfare, the worse off Jon felt about deserting his people.

"They are most likely dead," Roland joined the pair on the edge of the encampment. He was dressed in full armor and carried both a sword and a quiver of arrows on his back.

A cry sounded out from the sentries posted further up the road that led to the fortress.

"The messenger returns," Roland answered before Archer had time to ask.

The white _esther_ galloped down the dirt road while her rider clung to the saddle horn desperately. A livery hand met the steed in the road and stopped its panicked flight, leading the quivering beast and her rider to the presence of the king.

It took two men to pull him off the saddle. He had been held in place by two well-placed arrows lodged in his chest, driven into the saddle rise behind him. The tips of the arrows pierced the mount and they were what caused her desperate run. The injured man was laid on the ground and the king knelt down beside him.

"The Chosen One...stands on the battlements...and mocks your...pitiful attempts...to conquer her," gasped the messenger. "When the power...is hers...she will wipe you from...existence."

"What does that mean?" Archer inquired.

"It means we go to war," Roland supplied grimly.

The messenger drew in his last wheezing breath and shuddered into stillness. Galen took a moment to press his eyelids closed then released his hand. "Have the cannons brought forward," Galen told his deputy as he stood. "I don't care how we get them across the ravine, just get them here!"

"_You will be crushed under my boot! I will cut you from this life! The power is mine!"_ The female voice carried across the gully in a faint echo. Everyone looked up. A petite female with blond hair stood on the battlements.

Archer recognized the blond woman. He wracked his brain trying to figure out what game she was playing now. Had she taken the duty of "Chosen One" too far?

"Isn't that your woman?" Roland squinted up at the fortress in the dying light of day. His hand was already on the hilt of his sword. "What game are you playing at? Do you intend to delay the king from making an attack until your people could secure the power for themselves?"

"No, not at all," Jon protested vehemently.

"_I have they key and soon I have will have fodder for my royal guardians! The ktiryas eat well tonight!"_

Galen looked at Archer. "I told you women are easily swayed," he admonished dourly.

Jon looked again, hardly daring to believe his eyes. There seemed to be some sort of struggle up there. The blond woman jerked from one side to another. A dark man stood nearby. _Perhaps he was holding her chains_, Archer surmised. "Give me a minute to speak with her!" he tried to reach out to Galen.

"I will give you no more time!" Galen roared. The second ampoule of antivenin had done the king a world of good. He was feeling much stronger, and the death of his messenger had spurred his recovery even further.

From somewhere behind them there was a terrible boom, followed by the sound of wind screaming overhead.

"Cannon fire!" Roland called out, moving closer to the King. "We are under attack!"

"That was from our cannon!" Galen protested. "Who gave the order to fire?"

The large ball of metal was projected through the growing darkness. It hit the stone parapet just under the feet of the blond lady and exploded. Although the main portion of the wall held steady and strong as it had for many years, the battlement crumbled, tumbling both rock and lady in a dangerous shower of debris. Her body fell and Jon could do no more than watch.

"My lord! Father Baldric returns!" A soldier hurried up, breathless to share the news. "He ordered the cannon fired. He attacked the trio of men there and lit the fuse himself!"

"Capture him!" Roland commanded. "He will answer to the King for his actions!"

"My lord, he flees!" the soldier babbled. Roland and the young man moved across the compound as Archer stood, staring at the hole in the wall where Andie used to stand.


	20. Chapter 20

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 20

* * *

_Tower_

_Day Seven: A few hours ago_

A long time ago Andie Brainerd had traveled the stars. She once landed on a world where she fell in with a disreputable crowd, who taught her some very interesting lessons; not the least of which was how to enter into places where she wasn't supposed to be. Or, in this case, how to exit places she didn't want to stay. For the first time since landing on a world that weighed down their womenfolk with ridiculously bulky gowns made of heavy fabrics and preposterously complicated coiffures, Andie found good use for the frippery; specifically, one of the straight pins that kept her bodice closed also opened the ball- and tumbler-style lock on her cage.

Sighing with relief at the ability to stand upright, she looked around the room, not wanting to spend any more time here than she had to. If Herak was coming back she didn't want to be here when he arrived. The first thing on her agenda was to reclaim some of her personal belongings. The toolkit was the first thing she picked up, thinking she could formulate some sort of weapon from the items inside. She got a nasty surprise when she opened the container though; a fat, hairy _arachnidan_ jumped out at her, and she might have screeched with fear if silence weren't so important to her survival. _No wonder they left the case behind_, she fumed silently. Aside from the predator, the kit was empty. Annoyed at the inconvenience, she pulled the data card from the scanner and removed the power cell. If she couldn't have her toys, then they couldn't use them either.

Tensing at a sound nearby, she waited until she was certain she was still alone before finishing her perusal of the room. While she searched her eyes kept coming back to the standard tapestry on the wall. Old threads depicted a tall Tower with a bright light glowing from the top in the familiar triangle and star that was displayed on so many others in the castle. This wall hanging was different than the others somehow, but she couldn't quite pick out the variations. On a hunch, she pulled the fabric down and tucked it inside her bodice to look at later.

A quiet shuffle caught her attention and with wide eyes she glanced toward the door where a young man stood perfectly still with surprise. He carried a tray that steamed and smelled delicious, and he seemed surprised to find her outside her cage. Rising to her feet, she offered a bright smile, intending to present herself as a non-threat until she could think of something better, but her smile only made him nervous. He opened his mouth, perhaps only to greet her, but she couldn't take the chance. She slammed his head backward into the wall twice until his body slumped down onto the floor. It took a little extra time to drag him into the cage where she had so recently been a guest, but she wallowed in the glee of being able to lock someone else inside.

Just before she snapped the lock closed she was inspired with an idea. She took a few moments to divest the young man of his sensible vest and heavy pants, praying they would fit. They would suffice, she acknowledged, tugging the laces tighter to keep her shirt closed. He was a young boy and his garments fit pretty well. She felt much better once she was garbed in more comfortable clothes, although it was clear the young man never had to worry about squeezing boobs into his coats, she grimaced, adjusting the fabric. She definitely enjoyed locking the sleeping boy inside.

Her next stop was to retrace her footsteps back to the open room with the bloody couple from the village. Getting close to them was impossible; there were too many guards in this corridor. Regretfully she backtracked and headed for corridors that were dark and quiet. By ducking around a large barrel in order to evade detection, she found something else she sought; the rest of her medical kit. The satchel was nearly empty, but there were a few treasures left inside. Obviously they were things the simple folk couldn't find an immediate use for, like say, a nearly full tube of calcium gel, better known as bone paste. It was a quick-drying glue that was intended to never lose its cohesion. Andie grinned. She tucked the bone paste, the roll of gauze tape, and the slender screwdriver she found into her sleeves and got the hell out of there.

Finally standing in the Tower courtyard, she looked around trying to formulate a plan. She couldn't render the explosive chemicals inert because they were guarded. She couldn't flee because all the gates and all of the known tunnel entrances were guarded. She couldn't take on a garrison of guards by herself; she was crazy but she wasn't suicidal. It just wasn't fair that they were all armed and she wasn't!

One eyebrow arched thoughtfully as an idea formed in her head. Resting her hand above the vest where she kept the tube of bone glue, she considered her prospects with a mischievous smile. If you can't beat 'em, confuse 'em! Drawing a deep breath she changed direction and moved with purpose. From there it was simple work to steal a cloth bi-fold hat from a hook to hide her hair and face, as long as she kept her head down, and she was able to move throughout the fortress as close to invisible as she could manage.

By the time she made her way to the outer ward, her tube of glue was nearing empty, but her sticky fingers weren't finished yet with their work. Thrusting her shoulder out, she bumped into a large mountain of a man. A quick turn and a muttered apology earned a quick box to her ears from the cruel man, which stung worse than it should have due to the cold night air. She never stopped moving, just hunched her shoulders lower and kept moving.

"My lord, Herak," a second man called out from behind her. "You have dropped something." The helpful man's eyes widened at the sight of the silver device so unlike anything he had ever seen.

Herak whipped his eyes to the item on the ground, and snatched up the phase pistol, tucking it back into his belt and wondering how it might have come loose. "Did you think to steal from me?" he growled at the man who had spoken. In spite of the man's protests, Herak dealt him a blow that sent him reeling. "Nobody steals from me!"

Andie winced at the sharp cries of the man who took the beating that should have been hers. In her hands she could feel the cylinder she'd pulled from the machine and she wrapped her fingers around it. He might retain control of the phase pistol but she knew it wouldn't work without its power cell. She headed for the main gate.

"Stop right there, boy!"

Andie glanced up and noticed people looking in her direction and she changed course again, making for the stairs that would take her to the Tower walk. She cursed silently when Herak suddenly growled in recognition, and broke into a run. She almost made it to the top when hands clamped down on her shoulders, making her squeak in pain. The hat was torn off her head.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance!" Herak snarled. He pulled his belt from around his waist and twisted the leather around her wrists, cutting deep into her skin. "But I knew I'd have use for you!"

"Touch me and I'll kill you," she threatened, struggling uselessly.

"Don't worry," he promised. "I won't lay a finger on you!" He dragged her up the remaining stairs and lashed her to the merlon with the free end.

She could see out across the valley from here; the campfires of the opposing force had grown in number since she last viewed them, and the light glinted off of metal shields, poised for ready use at the edge of the encampment. "Now what?" she hissed angrily.

"Now we wait," Herak informed her.

It wasn't long after that a single man on a white _esther _approached the main gates. He stopped within earshot of the wall and read from a scroll, offering peace if the antagonists would surrender. Herak signaled with his arm and two arrows were sped from archers on the wall, deep into the body of the man. The terrified _esther_ turned and raced down the slope for home.

Andie turned her head to her captor. "You're going to pay for that," she hissed furiously.

"In a few more moments, you're going to be dead," Herak promised. He snapped his fingers and one of his guards escorted another female to the top of the stairs, but they did not set foot on the actual walk.

Sadiré stepped carefully to her assigned position; her cheeks flushed an unnatural red. She pulled her purple velvet cape further around her shoulders in a haughty gesture and looked with disdain upon the female tied to the wall.

"Tell them, Sadiré," Herak commanded. "The king sits out there. Tell him what you think of him."

The young woman cackled madly. She took a deep breath and shouted at the top of her lungs, threatening to wipe the kingdom out of existence. "I will crush all who oppose me under my boots!" she cried out, among other things.

Andie's eyes opened wider. Sadiré was making those threats from a position right behind her, and from a distance there was only one conclusion to be drawn. Andie could only assume that the king and his advisors believed that she was the one calling out her intention to use the Power for her own selfish ends. "Oh, crap," she muttered. From her nerveless fingers dropped the cold cylinder. The soft tinkle of its landing was hidden under the young princess' cackle of maniacal glee. Andie bent to retrieve it, thinking to keep the power cell from Herak's hands, but Herak grabbed her shoulder.

"You're not going anywhere," he told her. He flipped open the communicator he carried and spoke into it. "Let's start a war," he told the person on the other end.

A loud explosion rocked through the canyon. A fiery ball headed toward her. Her bindings would allow her to do nothing but watch the projectile draw nearer. The impact of the cannonball created enough damage on its own, by knocking down the thin wall to which Andie was tied, but the phase pistol power cell she'd dropped was damaged by the brunt contact of the ball and subsequent stone fall. It only took one single spark to ignite the volatile chemical inside the cracked cylinder and in the ensuing explosion the whole balcony on which she stood dribbled away slowly beneath her feet.

The world seemed to move so slowly. Herak scrambled backward to avoid being dragged down with her. Her feet hung in the air without support just before the rest of her body followed, like a cartoon coyote who didn't realize he'd run out of road. A whistling sound pierced the night, just before the wind screamed in her ears. A shadow reached out of the darkness and impacted against her, driving the breath from her lungs. That was obviously the collision of other rocks against her body, she told herself, uncomprehending of the coarse feel of fur. There was a cold so deep it burned her skin; clearly the icy fingers of death.

Her final thought was: _It wasn't supposed to end like this_.

_

* * *

__Tower Village_

_Day Seven: Night_

The parish was pretty well deserted since the villagers had been moved into the Tower where they were subsequently incarcerated by those expected to protect them. It was fairly easy for Malcolm to evade the few soldiers stationed around while leading three women through the darkness. They all looked so nervous he couldn't be sure that something unexpected might make them lose all reason. Mistress Berthelde was the worst. She refused to move quickly. She didn't want to get her gown dirty. She was afraid of the king and all the king's men in light of the part she had played up until now for the opposing side. She didn't like the dark. Malcolm couldn't help but remember the doctor's ability to traverse dangerous territory with speed and relative peacefulness with nostalgia. He thought of her fondly until he remembered that she'd once thrown him off a castle wall.

His concern grew when a horse-like creature tore up the road toward the village with a rider flopping around on its back. Soon after, a boom echoed around the valley. Reed barked an order at the ladies to stay put as he maneuvered closer to the edge of the village to get a better look at the explosion and the harried rider. A sharp whistle behind him drew his attention momentarily toward Lady Theia. Her attention was elsewhere and Reed turned his head to see what she found interesting and saw a familiar blond woman struggling on the parapet with the cruel-faced Herak just before the bright light of an explosion disturbed his vision and sent dark spots and shadows streaking across his vision. By the time his eyes cleared, the walkway and the woman were nothing but rubble.

"No!" Malcolm choked out, moving forward intending to pull her body out of the debris. Another flash of movement caught his attention. That desperate rider was close enough to for Reed to recognize the shiny bald head bouncing above the graceful arch of an _esther's_ neck, as Baldric raced up the narrow road through the village. Malcolm knew he may have been too late to save Andie from the pain of a bad fall, but he could sure dole out a little payback to the spineless coward who had attacked her.

Malcolm took a running leap at the balding cleric.

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Seven: Nightfall_

"May I have a word with you, Commander?"

Trip looked up from the conversation he was having with himself and saw T'Pol standing in the doorway to her pod. He hated the way he cringed at her request. She did not approve of this plan and her censure made him edgy. The day's repairs had moved faster than expected and he was looking at a suicidal launch date of hours not days. He couldn't afford to be edgy.

Of course, she was his superior officer and he had no choice but to obey.

"Sure, T'Pol," he sighed, turning sharply and veering toward her. To his surprise she actually stepped inside the pod and waited for him to follow. Many crewmen were still gathered around the central fire pit to eat their meager supper together and he was taken aback the Vulcan had arranged such a private meeting in plain sight of the Mess Tent.

Once he had entered, she pulled the door closed and sealed them inside an almost soundproof, tiny, dimly lit room.

"I have received word from Sergeant Chang," she began without preamble. "The incident at the Tower is growing more precarious for our crewmen. I understand your work on the Escape Pod is nearly complete and I would like to schedule a launch in just under an hour."

His breath caught in his throat. "An hour?" It was a totally different prospect to put into action something he wasn't certain would succeed than it was to work it out on paper. Frankly he was having trouble wrapping his head around the prospect. "You want us to try this out at night?"

"Daytime or nighttime will make no difference to the results of this plan," T'Pol pointed out.

There was something almost preternaturally smooth about the way the words were rolling off her tongue, especially in light of the difficulties she'd been having for several days just keeping her temper in check. _Perhaps meditating really did work_, Trip guessed.

"We were going to um...run some more diagnostics to make sure that we...er, had dotted all our 'i's and crossed all our 't's," he struggled to remember the basics of the plan he had concocted with Hess and Truax. It wasn't a good sign if he was supposed to be flying this mission. He'd been up for far too many hours.

"I have checked your results," T'Pol informed him. "The diagnostics are showing positive signs."

"Positive signs of what?" Trip asked, struggling to figure out which problem she was referencing now.

"Signs of positive success," she clarified. T'Pol stared deeply into his eyes. "Turn around, Commander, and sit down." She gestured to the bunk behind her.

"Why?" he inquired suspiciously, although he complied, almost without thinking about it.

"The Vulcans have used neural pressure to relieve stress and promote healing in their own bodies for years," T'Pol answered, settling behind him in a manner that was comfortingly familiar. Her hands were a delicate weight against his shoulders.

Automatically he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and picturing the muscles she touched. Trip was hyper-aware of the stench he must be exuding; he'd been working hard all day and there wasn't a shower handy. He breathed again. "I know about neural pressure," he finally retorted. It didn't sound as irritable out loud as it did in his head. Out loud his retort sounded...kinda sleepy.

"Breathe," she told him, adjusting her hands again and pressing through the thick material of his gray jumpsuit. The Vulcan could feel the hot knot of tension release under his skin and could sense his shoulders relax with the relief. She adjusted another pressure point. Obediently he inhaled, right on cue.

She breathed when he breathed. He hadn't done much more than splash water over his sweaty extremities and she could make out odors from several different sources. Sweat and dirt and engine oil, of course; those scents followed him everywhere, even on the sterile environment of the ship. T'Pol could make out the slight tang of the red earth that punctuated this world. There was the crisp linen starch that was steeped into the plain uniform. There was something else too; something deeper that she couldn't quite put her finger on. If she closed her eyes she would be able to smell the candles she lit for meditation, and feel the silk of the pajamas she wore during their sessions on board the ship. She would be able to remember in great detail the way his skin felt under her hands and the way his kisses tasted when she had finally given in to her urges. In a few more moments she would remember the shuddery way he had gasped when their bodies had joined. She would remember the delicate way he had traced her ear with his tongue and she would....

...Open her eyes and ask herself what the hell she thought she was doing indulging in fantasies she had no business indulging in at a moment like this! Her hands had stilled on his back and she pulled them away before an involuntary shudder could wrack her frame. She was beginning to think that she knew what was wrong with her, but she fervently hoped her diagnosis was incorrect. There was no time for this kind of foolishness. T'Pol closed her eyes again and drew in a deep breath. _All those hours she had spent in here trying to get a grip on her emotional state and her control slipped away in one breath of engine oil and sweat!_

Trip rolled his neck around on his shoulders. "Wow! That was great!" he remarked. He craned his head to look at her over his shoulders. "I feel like I just had an eight hour nap!" His thoughts were clear. His weariness and pessimism had disappeared with the knots in his muscles. When T'Pol remained silent he turned further around. "T'Pol?" he prompted her.

"I knew you were working too hard," she acknowledged curtly. "This is not a permanent solution; you should make plans to get an actual nap sometime soon. But in light of your current mission, I thought it would beneficial...for the whole crew." She struggled to look composed and not shaken to her core. "Commander," she added when she thought that her statement sounded too personal.

That megawatt smile spread across his features. "I'm sure the whole crew will thank you for it," he teased. "Commander," he added just to spite her.

"It was wrong to initiate a human in the ways of neural pressure," she fretted, not for the first time. She stood up and straightened her uniform. "Your species is not mature enough to handle such things with dignity."

Trip rose too, and faced her. "I'll have you know, I'm mature enough to enjoy getting felt up by a woman on any occasion." He recognized her mild attack as her way of dealing with something that embarrassed her, but it didn't stop him from poking back at her. Maybe she was embarrassed by the number of crewmen that waited outside. Or perhaps she was still worried about the upcoming launch. _Speaking of which,_ he noted grimly before getting down to business. "I want to run a couple of last minute diagnostics with Hess and Truax and I'd like to go over the mission one more time with Mayweather and Romero," Tucker went on, picking up the blanket he was using in lieu of a coat and wrapping it around him. "Do you think the Captain and the others can wait an hour or two while we finish prep work?"

T'Pol considered the request, relieved to have her mind focused on work instead of...other things. "I suppose they will have to make do with your timeline," she acknowledged. "But do not dawdle." She really couldn't express how desperately she needed him to finish this quickly, she acknowledged silently.

"I'm already working at the speed of light," he grinned. He really did feel much better about lots of things. He considered suggesting that neural pressure be administered to every engineering team in the Fleet, but once again he was certain that would produce a lack of qualified teachers. _Vulcan's didn't like to get their hands dirty_, he snorted with amusement. "Can't get much faster than that!"

"All right then," the Vulcan remarked, then realized she had nothing more to add after that. "You are dismissed, Commander." There was a brief awkward moment before Trip ducked his head as a prelude to exiting, then turned and left, closing the door behind him.

T'Pol exhaled heavily. She realized her fists were clenched and forced herself to release them. There was too much work to do to indulge in worry. Or in anything else her mind thought to torment her with, she acknowledged. She grabbed her jacket and followed Tucker out the door.

* * *

_Village Road_

_Day Seven: Night_

Unlike the last two times he'd seen Andie fall, Malcolm didn't freeze in place to contemplate the idea that he had failed her, failed to save the woman in his care. He just moved, as quickly as his numb feet and shaking knees would carry him. Moving fast to intercept the rider before he cleared the edge of the village, Malcolm was grimly pleased that the cleric seemed to be headed for the Tower. It made him easier to target.

Baldric never saw the flying tackle, but he felt the weight of a wiry man drive him to the earth. They came up grappling with each other as the _esther_ skittered away. Baldric punched Reed's face and Reed countered with a double fist to his midsection. They traded more blows. Baldric was taller and more muscular than Reed, but Malcolm had the training of Starfleet on his side. Reed stepped backward to avoid a blow and his ankle wobbled on an uneven portion of ground. Baldric pressed his advantage until someone spoke behind him.

"Hey, Baldy!"

Both men looked around.

"You missed, you son of a bitch!" A chunk of rock as big as a cantaloupe slammed onto the arch of his foot. Baldric howled and screeched and Malcolm didn't waste the opportunity to launch an uppercut that actually propelled the cleric into the air before dropping him on the ground with a thump.

"How do you like it when projectiles come flying at you without warning, huh? You like them boulders, pal?" Andie snapped, advancing to plant a steel-toed boot directly in his midsection instead. "Twigs! Pebbles!" She punctuated each syllable with a sturdy kick to the ribs, except for the last one which landed squarely between his legs.

Andie Brainerd was sporting several cuts and abrasions. Her hands and face were dirty and her clothes were torn. She was soaking wet and shivering so hard it was a miracle she was still on her feet. In other words, she looked fantastic, Reed thought.

Malcolm grabbed her trembling shoulders and pulled her back. "I think he gets the picture," he remarked dryly.

"I owed him that," she assured him with a snarl. She turned her head sharply to the side. "Don't move, Dirtbag!" she hissed at Baldric who struggled weakly. "You stay right there!"

"For a second I thought you were dead," Reed smirked, using his hands to check for injuries. "Then I remembered; you can fly." He cupped his face and probed her neck and spinal column.

"You bet your ass I can! Stop it!" Andie grumbled, swatting at his hands to stop his gentle ministrations. Her protestwas short-lived as her knees gave out and she started to fall.

Reed reached out and kept her from dropping like a stone by slipping his arms around her waist. "Damnit, woman! Can't you stay on your feet!" he chastised gently.

"Get your hands off me!" she grunted, pushing at him, causing her rescuer to stumble with the weight of both of them. "I said, don't move!" She turned to bellow at the fallen cleric beside her who groaned and shifted his weight.

"How'd you manage it this time?" Malcolm struggled and succeeded in remaining upright, but barely. He found her physical presence to be rather reassuring.

"I had help," the woman grunted before her attention was diverted. "Hey! Get back here!"

In spite of her directives to remain, Baldric took the opportunity provided when the pair tangled together and hustled to his feet, unmindful of the injuries he suffered. He took off at a shambling run in the dark night air.

Reed tried to untangle himself from Andie but she clutched his forearm to stop him. "Don't bother. He won't get far," she told him tiredly.

Something growled in the dark. That shadow that had collided with Andie had not been a shadow at all. It had been a Guardian of the Tower. Summoned by a whistle, Androcles had raced through the night and knocked Andie out of the thickest part of the falling debris, dropping her directly into the moat. The water was cold and his claws had dug into her shoulders, but in the end it had cushioned her fall, ending with a ducking in a pool of water rather than under a pile of brick and stone. That shadow now materialized from the darkness as Androcles passed by them at a dead run hunting down the man who had chanced to run. There was another loud roar, followed by a shriek and a gurgling sound. Then there was silence.

"He should have stayed," Malcolm uttered quietly, guessing that Baldric had just become a snack.

"We should get out of here," Andie murmured.

"I thought you and Androcles were friends?" Malcolm inquired.

"I don't think I'm the one he came for," she muttered. "I wasn't the one who summoned him."

Just outside the line of sight Reed thought he could hear the juicy sound of flesh tearing and the smacking of lips, and with her words he remembered the shrill whistle just before he had seen a flash of shadow. The sound of the whistle had come from behind him and now another sound came from that location as well; it was the sound of a woman's scream. "Damn!" he hissed, grabbing Andie's hand and hauling her to her feet. "I left those women alone in the village!" He set off at a run.

"I'm fighting for my life, getting thrown off a castle wall and you're picking up _dates_?" Andie snorted. The accusation held little rancor as she was struggling just to keep breathing as they raced across the uneven terrain in the dark.

Malcolm ignored her petulance. A soft squeal reached his ears and he picked up the pace. There wasn't any breath left for conversation. They returned to the village square to find it nearly empty.

Mistress Berthelde was on her knees, weeping into the hem of her dress. "They took her. They took the lady." Her shaking hand pointed back in the direction of the hidden hut with its tunnel entrance concealed beneath.

"Isn't this the maid who was stealing my stuff?" Andie panted crossly.

Reed could see this wasn't heading in a good direction. "She's the advisor of our old pal, Sadiré," he informed her shortly, looking around for signs of the other two women. He was out of luck. Signs of scuffle led off into the darkness, but there wasn't enough light to follow.

"Is Sadiré going to miss her?" Andie queried grimly.

"They took Theia," Berthelde moaned distraughtly.

Their conversation was cut off as a different set of guards surrounded them. Roland's guards rode up on _esthers_ and kept them in place with drawn weapons. Berthelde took one look at the armed guards, shrieked and toppled over in a faint. For the second time, Malcolm moved quickly to wrap his arms around a woman before she hit the dirt. She lolled helplessly against him and he was forced to lift her into the air, cradling her body against his.

"Where is the cleric?" the captain of the guard demanded when he saw the trio. He pulled his mount to a halt to interrogate the new prisoners.

"He won't be coming back," Reed told him. "He had an encounter with a _ktirya_."

One gesture sent two men to verify the claim. "I see you have returned, Madam," Roland looked down his nose at Andie with disdain. "I expected you to be harrying that impostor."

"I'm preparing for my second wind," Andie huffed belligerently. "This is all part of my master plan."

"The king would like a word," Roland informed her.

"Fabulous," Andie muttered as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I look forward to meaningful discourse." She refused to move until prompted by a sharp sword then stomped her feet in the direction indicated. Malcolm adjusted his hold on Mistress Berthelde and followed behind, trying not to let the woman dangle. The guards fell into pace behind them.

Although he didn't say anything, Roland could see the injuries that Andie suffered as she passed him by. She didn't ask for special treatment of her wounds, so he didn't offer any, but he did marvel at a woman who didn't complain. Captain Archer's woman was stranger than any female he'd ever known and the thought troubled him somewhat. Perhaps there were stranger things at work here this night.

* * *

_Galen's Camp_

_Day Seven: Night_

Andie entered the circle of earth around the fire in front of Galen's tent, followed by Reed and Berthelde, before the guards instructed her to halt. Beside her Reed laid down the woman who had fainted. She seemed to be making noises that would indicate a slow rise to consciousness. Someone threw a cloak over her shivering shoulders and she wrapped it around her gratefully. The thin material might ward off the chill but it wouldn't protect her from the verbal assault.

"I want my key back, woman!" Galen broke off conversation with a minion and crossed the open air to stand in front of the doctor.

She didn't even flinch. "It's good to see you on your feet, King," she answered sarcastically. Unconcerned with his title, she glanced past him to look at Archer. "I'm surprised to see you still on yours, Jon," she added, eyeing him with a frown. Her eyes took in the way his arm tucked against his side to protect his vulnerable spots and correctly guessed the reason. She started in his direction, but the king detained her with an imperious gesture.

"Return my key!" Galen demanded again.

Andie tossed him an irritated glance before meeting Archer's gaze. "I...may have...lost it...a little bit," she admitted slowly. "But I can get it back!"

"The whelp has control of the key?" Galen paled.

"They've prepped a wall to blow and they have hostages," Andie spoke quickly. "We have to get back in there and help the villagers!"

"What happened?" Archer inquired.

Andie explained as quickly as possible, and her words tumbled over each other. "Sadiré reneged on her claim of me as the Chosen One. She turned me over to Herak and he shot me. They're prepping a massive explosion to take out the wall between the mountain and the fortress. They're going to sacrifice all the villagers in the Great Hall so nobody will oppose them when they have the power they seek. I've done what I can to slow their progress but we need to stop them sooner rather than later."

Reed and Archer spoke at once. "What did you do?" They demanded in unison.

In spite of her disheveled appearance, that cocky grin stretched slowly across her face. "I slowed them down," she repeated, quite pleased with her actions.

"Andie, what did you do?" Archer growled again.

"I found my tube of bone paste and glued shut every keyhole I could find. That includes the lock on the cistern gate and the one leading to Sadiré's bedroom. And the armory, not that I think that'll do any good. Anyone who's any good at fighting already had weapons on them, I just thought that it might slow them down if they can't regroup or rearm or grab something bigger or..." She was babbling randomly again, so she clamped her lips shut over her chattering teeth.

"Glue?" Jon inquired with an arched brow.

"I also pulled the data card out of the scanner they had and deleted what power was left in the primary memory. They don't have access to bio signs anymore or updated maps of the tunnels."

"That's a start," Reed remarked.

"You still have your scanner?" she asked him, holding out a hand.

Reed handed it over. "I thought you were using UESPA's device. I don't think the technologies are interchangeable."

"Minor adjustment," she grunted, kneeling down and pulling open the back of the silver device used by Starfleet, and twisting the wires around. Once finished, she pulled the data cartridge out of her pocket and popped the thin tab off the top, using two wires to connect with the inner workings. Then she scanned her hand.

"What are you doing?" Reed inquired. He glanced anxiously at the natives surrounding them. They seemed to be growing more agitated the longer the three humans conversed amongst themselves.

"Testing a theory," she spoke shortly. "I scraped Herak's arm with my fingernails on the Tower walk. I want to run his DNA." She frowned at the results she got.

"That's enough foolishness," Galen stated stepping forward. "Captain, do your duty."

"You are under arrest, Lady," Captain Roland strode over and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back to her feet. "You have broken into the Castle of Renaisterre. You have assaulted His Majesty, King Galen. You have stolen from the king, and you were seen conspiring with the enemy." He pulled her toward the prison cages, but she struggled.

"I wasn't conspiring!" Andie snapped, yanking on her arm. "I got caught trying to seal the firing pins in the cannons! They tied me to the battlements and let Sadiré talk dirty to you! Then _you_ conspired to fire on _me_!"

"Father Baldric fired that cannon," Roland interrupted her tirade. "We did not fire upon you."

Andie's eyes widened in surprise. "He was a priest?

"Cleric," Malcolm clarified.

"Whatever!" she shrieked, throwing her hands out in annoyance.

"He's dead now," Malcolm shrugged uncomfortably.

After a short consideration, Andie shrugged it off too and faced the old man. "King, look, I promise that if you let me go back into that Tower, I will get your key back. I'll even make sure that Sadire gets her comeuppance."

"You're not going to kill her!" Archer objected.

"It's possible that Sadiré's not aware of her actions," Malcolm added. "I think her tea is being drugged, much as her mother's was years ago."

"She's drinking Letizia's tea?" Andie queried. She pondered that silently for a moment, before closing her eyes and shaking her head slowly. After a moment she opened her eyes and focused on the king. "She'll be in your custody by dawn."

Galen stared at the slender female in front of him. He could understand now why Roland referred to her as an odd woman, and why Archer smirked and implied that Galen didn't know how strange she was. She spoke and moved as a man might, with confidence and passion. She exuded none of the grace or gentleness of a woman. Her tone to him was both arrogant and derogatory, but he didn't doubt her sincerity, in spite of his next question. "Why should I trust you, Lady?"

"Because you don't have any other choice," Reed suggested, stepping into the light. "They will make their move within hours, and you cannot hope to take the Tower by force before they have finished their work."

"You've already lost one man today," Archer stepped forward. "Let us help you defend your world."

Something wrapped around Andie's knee, causing a gasp of surprise but when she looked down she found Berthelde kneeling in the dirt and looking up at her. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were too bright, as though she had a high fever. The maid stole a look at King Galen. Her eyes moved back to Andie and then rolled out of focus.

"Who better to fight a woman than another woman, Your Majesty?" For the first time Berthelde spoke, drawing all eyes toward her. Her voice sounded dreamy and far away; she was having a vision. Her grip on Andie's leg tightened involuntarily until the doctor was almost wincing.

"_The woman of shadows will bring light to the darkness...She will bear them all children...the beasts will feast on flesh of the cold, unnamed...he will drown in her...they will hold together until the sea..."_ For just a moment Berthelde's eyes focused on Andie who had not moved. She reached up her hand to slip it into the palm of the doctor and the kneeling body jerked like it had connected with a live electrical wire. "_His divided personality will betray you_." Her eyes flickered to Malcolm before glazing over again, the words spilling forth faster and faster.

"_The bringer of life is the giver of death...one heart, broken...cities crumble under her Medusa gaze...she is another and another...one is lost, Bones, the other is broken...fire...the never-ending circle...of light...forever...the bright blue sky...the stars are watching_!" Berthelde screamed and yanked her hand out of Andie's sweaty grip. She covered her face with her hands and wept.

The group stood in front of her, looking a little pale. The frantic way she grasped Andie's hand, the speed with which the words tumbled out, the hot look in the seer's eyes made gooseflesh break out on everyone listening. It had been distinctly uncomfortable. Archer was the first to break the silence. "Did that make any sense to you?" he asked Galen and Roland.

They both shook their heads faintly.

"_Time is irrelevant_," Berthelde whispered, before sinking into unconsciousness.

Malcolm's lips twitched. "That was definitely meant for you," he teased Andie soberly, speaking from quite close by. She hadn't even seen him moving near. He must have done it when it looked like she was being assaulted by the seer.

"But...Medusa gaze? What's that about?" Andie questioned. The frown didn't leave her face.

"Did any of the rest of that mean anything in particular to you?" he asked, curious about her response. She looked pale and flustered.

"No, it was just gobbledygook," she answered faintly.

He knew she wasn't telling him the truth. "The woman of shadows...the bringer of life and death...that doesn't mean anything to you?" he pushed, narrowing his eyes.

"She also said your divided personality will betray me," Andie challenged sharply. "You want to discuss that in detail?"

Reed shrugged noncommittally and stepped back, watching the mysterious doctor from under his dark lashes.

"Is there someplace where I can freshen up before we head back in there?" Andie asked Galen directly. Her tone had sharpened and the traces of unease fled.

It irked him that she did not pay him the respect of title, but he wasn't in the mood to pick a battle with the "bringer of life and the giver of death." He just nodded at Roland and the captain lifted an arm to usher Andie into his tent, providing her with a towel and bowl of clean water.

"If your woman has sealed the gates, how will you enter the fortress?" Roland inquired.

"I think they are anticipating that we will enter the same way we exited," Malcolm broke in. "I have a plan that takes us in a different direction. They won't be watching it as closely because it's not what they expect." He took a deep breath and tried to forget the unnerving prophecy. "You'll need to provide some distraction so they aren't looking at us." Roland nodded and took off to speak to his men.

"How are we getting in?" Archer inquired, closing the distance between himself and his armory officer.

"You don't expect to go with us, sir?" Malcolm inquired. Archer's earlier lack of faith in his armory officer still stung and the words were sharper than usual. He had made careful note of the way that the captain and the doctor had greeted one another, exchanging significant glances that were not meant to be understood by anyone else in the circle, not even him, and it brought back all the frustration of the previous evening.

"I'm going with you," Archer stated simply with a grin at the cheek of his overly cautious tactical officer trying to keep him from joining in.

"Shouldn't you remain here, sir?" Malcolm repeated.

"It's my job to go, Malcolm," Archer retorted, getting hot under the collar that a lieutenant would question his methods.

"Actually, sir, that is not your job at all. Your job is to lead your crew to safety, and you can't do that if you are placing yourself directly in the line of fire." Malcolm couldn't believe the words were flying out of his mouth, but he couldn't seem to stop the tide of speech, although he did lower the volume. "Your job is not to wander off in the night and lead us into worry! Your job is not to endanger our position when we are lost! It is not to parade around here as though you are possessed of perfect health when it is clear that activity causes you pain! It is not your job to lead a possibly fatal mission raid on a fortress when your leadership could best serve us by remaining on board ship...I mean, to remain behind to counsel this trigger-happy king!"

There was one slip of the tongue that held more meaning than the others. He hadn't even been thinking of it until the words came out of his mouth. Reed was still stinging from Archer's decision to take an explosive device deep into the heart of the ocean laboratory where the Xindi were preparing the weapon of mass destruction; a mission that had nearly been a one-way ticket and which had nearly cost the crew of the _Enterprise_ their lives. It hadn't been an easy decision on either side, but obviously that memory was bothering Reed more than he'd thought.

"I'm the boss," Archer drew himself up to his full height and looked down at Reed. "I can do whatever I want! You're overstepping your bounds!"

"No, sir!" Reed refuted. "You are overstepping yours by leaving us to our fate while you make yet another decision that will, in all likelihood, lead you straight to your death!"

The sudden flare of temper surprised both men. The ensuing silence was awkward to say the least. Water that should have passed under the bridge had poured forth to soak them both in its chilly tide. Neither had expected to harbor such a grudge, not after so much time had passed, but it seemed that the tide was bringing it back in again.

Court martial was the first thing that flew through Archer's mind, but it was immediately deflected. Reed had always served his post well. In fact, the punitive solution was so out of context with the kind of man that Archer had always considered himself to be that his ire deflated entirely, leaving him exhausted. "You think we'll ever be able to leave the Expanse behind?" Archer asked quietly.

Malcolm wasn't quite ready to release his hurt feelings. "At least this time, Captain, you will, once again, still not know what it's like to be left behind since you insist on joining this mission."

The continued discomfort was broking up by the intrusion of the doctor who broke up the silence with her customary diplomacy. "You boys want to take some time to kiss and make up or can we go kick this bitch in the teeth and save the heavy petting for later?"

Malcolm snapped a particularly dour glare in her direction, fuming at the wrongness of that statement. When she refused to cower beneath his disdain, he snapped off a crisp salute to Captain Archer before turning on his heel and striding off into the darkness. He had a rescue to plan.

Jon didn't waste any time fuming; he snarled at the doctor. "You got something to say?"

For once, she didn't flounce around or make dirty jokes. "You know he's right," she began soberly. "I've seen ships tear themselves apart when their captain was lost. But you already know that, don't you? In spite of the fact that you keep tempting fate, you know he's right. Is all the fame and glory you seek worth all of their lives?"

"Is that what you think of me?" Archer asked, taken aback. "You think I'm a glory-hound?"

"Why else would you do something this foolhardy?" she asked quietly.

"Because it's the right thing to do!" Archer growled.

"Right thing for whom?" she countered.

"I'm the captain! I get to decide what's good for everyone! If you think you can do a better job, get your own commission!"

She was so quiet and so still for a moment she could have been a statue. It looked like she was considering his words in far deeper context that he had intended. Finally she just shrugged. "Whatever," she grunted, waving away the altercation. "You ready or do you need time to stroke your own ego?" She had washed away the worst of the dirt and blood and was close to looking presentable again. In addition to her dark pants and vest she had added a short cape to camouflage the fact that she had also helped herself to Roland's weapons. Two daggers, each with a blade as long as a man's forearm, peeked out of her belt.

Archer was slightly amused to note that a silver fork stuck out of the top of her boots. He wondered how desperate a fight had to get before she would resort to cutlery instead of weaponry. And then he wondered if she had ever resorted to cannibalism. Shaking his head, he decided to stop wondering about the doctor's odd habits.

"My lady, you cannot possibly mean to go!" Roland hurried up to the pair moving away from the tent and waved his hands in protest.

"I'm going to let you in on a little secret, pal." Andie patted Roland's chest companionably and leaned in to disclose a confidence near his ear. "I'm not really a lady," she whispered loudly.

Roland spluttered in confusion while she moved away with further clarification.

Archer choked back laughter. "It's complicated," he dodged rather than explaining. "She's going with us." He glanced at Andie. "Unless you'd like to remain here?"

"Bitch tried to blow me up," Andie growled. "I'm going. Besides none of you can handle her."

"I beg your pardon!" Reed's voice preceded him out of the darkness surrounding the campsite. Sergeant Chang followed him, carefully eyeing the armed men around him and trying to ignore the interest that his strange wardrobe and unfamiliar weapons incited. "I can handle a single woman just fine!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Andie scoffed. "You're a gentleman and she's not a trained soldier. You couldn't bring yourself to take her out. I have no such qualms."

"Enough arguing!" Archer held up a hand. "Are we ready to go?"

"I would respectfully request the right to attend your incursion party," Roland asked formally.

Archer looked askance at Reed who only shrugged. "We'll make room but we'd like to keep this raiding party as small as possible in order to sneak in undetected."

"What are our objectives, sir?" Chang inquired, shifting his shoulder under the weight of a coil of rope that Lieutenant Reed had asked that he bring.

"You are supposed to return for Lady Theia," Berthelde chastised wearily from the ground. In spite of her dirt mattress, she looked rather comfortable. Someone had brought her a pillow and a blanket, and she held a cup of tea in her weak grip. "Forgive me, Lady Andrea. It's been so long since I used my gift. I kept seeing images of the dead Theia, and Sadiré assured me she was dead and necromancy is forbidden. I thought I'd lost my mind as Letizia did. The release of my burden of guilt brought it all forth in a rush. I must have frightened you."

"Don't worry about it," Andie knelt down. "I've had my fortune read before. You didn't tell me much I hadn't already heard." She kept her eyes on the weak woman and ignored the jerk of Malcolm's head as she announced that. "Rest now and we'll bring Theia back to you." She rose and fell into line behind the departing men.

Malcolm fell into step beside her as they moved away. "You've had your fortune read?" he queried. He had also raided a weapon's chest, but he was armed with a phase pistol and a fresh quilted jacket.

"Well, you know," Andie shuffled her feet as she moved, "Fortune cookies at Madame Chang's, whatever."

That answer seemed insufficient for her unrest earlier. "A fortune cookie from Madame Chang's told you that you are the woman of shadows?" he prodded her lightly.

"Woman of shadows, lottery numbers, weather forecasting...it's all hokum and phooey, right?"

Malcolm couldn't stop the quick giggle. "You think weather forecasting is hokum and phooey too? There's hope for you yet." He sobered for a moment. "Are you sure you want to go back into this?"

"Where else would I be?" she answered lightly.

The answer was troubling, not because it was glib, but because Malcolm thought she might be telling the truth. Once more she was throwing herself recklessly into the fray without thought or concern for her own safety. He was beginning to recognize that she had an ability to avoid an unpleasant end, but that didn't make him more certain that he wanted her there. In short, he had to look after the captain and he had to look after the doctor; if they were both in danger, he didn't know which he would rescue first. That was the thought that troubled him. Pushing aside his worry, he tried to concentrate only on the maneuvers that would get them all through this action in one piece.

On the other side of the village Andie turned toward the hidden hut, the last place that Lady Theia and Mistress Dagmar had been seen.

"We're not going that way." Reed caught her arm. "I have another entry point in mind." He waited for her inevitable objection; she always objected.

"Lead on, Lieutenant," she waved him ahead.

Her acquiescence startled him, but he decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He took point and led them in another direction. It was riskier, but he hoped that it would offer them the opportunity to surprise their enemy.


	21. Chapter 21

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 21

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Seven: Night_

"You have pulled something impressive out of your posterior orifice, Commander." T'Pol's dry voice was at odds with the light-hearted tone of her words. She had taken the last eighty-three minutes to draw deep breaths and think of dry, sandy deserts while she repeated over and over that she was not under the insensible dictates of her body. She had control over her emotions and she would not be led by them. It seemed to be working so far.

Tucker pulled his head out from under the console panel. "What did you just say? Are you accusing me of pulling a miracle of my ass?" he demanded.

"Was that not the objective?" she queried.

He smirked. "I guess it was." Her attempt at humor was a rather unusual occurrence. She was more likely to take a pragmatic stance. Trip hated to waste perfectly good humor, but there was something else to be said. "This seems like such a bad idea," Trip confided quickly before he lost his nerve.

T'Pol looked at him in surprise. "You agreed to its promise," she remarked uncertainly.

"Just because I agreed to it doesn't make it a good idea. Although it only takes one successful crazy idea to make people call a man a genius," Trip grinned. "The diagnostics are coming out all right, I guess. I'd really like more time to make certain of everything, but I guess we're about out of time?" He waited for her confirming nod. "Well, we've stripped her down to just about the nuts and bolts. We removed everything that wasn't strictly necessary, including the chair padding and the anti-grav plating."

"You removed anti-gravity plating?" T'Pol wanted to make certain she heard that clearly.

"Yeah, and if it weren't for Truax, we'd'a forgot to put seatbelts back in again," he acknowledged ruefully. "We've also torn out most of the atmospheric controls. Since we'll probably need the EV suits when we get to _Enterprise_, we'll just wear them in the pod and then we won't need the weight of a heater or humidity control. We pulled out subspace communications and the automated distress beacon. We won't be able to contact you until we reach the ship."

"Is that wise?" T'Pol inquired.

"We're trying to get this down to the lightest weight possible, T'Pol. Everything that ain't strictly necessary is going. Right now we've basically got four metal chair frames, seatbelts and basic helm control sitting on top of three high-powered explosives."

She peered into the Pod, in all of the corners, doing everything she could to avoid touching him or getting close enough to smell him. She had a few questions about function and control, but in the end there was nothing else to say. There were no other words that would keep him here safe with her without jeopardizing the entire crew. She had to let him go.

Again.

"Are you prepared to launch, Commander Tucker?" She inquired in curiously formal tones. It was a formal occasion. If anything went wrong, it would be her name on the report giving the order that ended his life.

"I am prepared, Commander T'Pol," Tucker responded in equally grave tones. The moment the words left his mouth, all his fear floated away. He lifted his head to look up at the murkiness that hid the bright dots of light. He was going home. In a very short time he would be up there. No matter which way this ended, he would be floating among the stars. If he was successful, he would see his best girl floating in the asteroid field where they left her and she would open her portals to him and he would be home.

Home is where your heart was, right?

He brought his gaze back down to earth, and saw T'Pol studying him closely. "Let's get this show on the road," he encouraged in a husky voice.

"Make it so, Commander," she directed.

* * *

_The Watch Tower_

_Day Seven: Night_

"And you keep calling me crazy," Andie muttered quietly. She was silently shushed by a dark look Malcolm.

Her silent apology of two uplifted hands allowed Malcolm to return his concentration to the task at hand. Roland watched him secure the knot on the line of flexible cable provided by Chang around the end of the projectile, then loaded the metal bolt into the crossbow he carried. Reed whispered in his ear, directing the placement of the arrow. Roland nodded and stepped back as far as he dared to take aim. Footing was precarious here. There was less than a meter of solid land at the widest spaces between the smooth rock of the Tower wall and the sheer drop that was now slick with water from the newly repaired moat. Reed would think later about how all the improvements they had made to this world had actually ended up causing them more difficulties than if they had done nothing.

The quarters last employed by Archer and Reed were directly above their heads. Its windows had offered a head-spinning view of the steep gorge, but nothing more, and Reed had counted on it not being a location of interest to the sentries posted on the Tower wall, and so far he had been correct. Once Roland fired his missile, there was a small tinkling of glass, but there was no further commotion from inside, meaning they hadn't been detected. The wide shaft of the arrow caught horizontally between the narrow window casings and delicate tugs indicated that it was holding true enough.

Reed hated himself for this next bit, but he signaled Andie forward. Of the group that waited, she was the lightest and the least likely to snap the brace that the arrow was caught on. She winked at him in the dark as he secured a noose around her waist for security before grasping the rope and drawing her body up the wall, making it look like no effort at all. All that rock climbing they had done should have assured Reed that she was strong and agile, but he still didn't breathe until she had swung a leg over the sill and disappeared into the darkened room. Soon the noose slipped out of the room and back down the wall to those that waited.

Steward Declan had fallen from this very height. He may have been poisoned first, but anyone who followed him into the gorge would be crushed by the landing. Everybody involved tried very hard not to think about it as they were hoisted up the wall, one at a time. Soon they were all standing in the bedroom that until very recently Archer and Reed had shared. Since they had been ousted from the fortress, nobody had come inside and they were now alone in the dark. Herak had posted guards at known entrances to the tunnels, but he had obviously never considered that they would scrabble up the narrow corridor between the ravine and the outpost. That didn't mean they could afford to be clumsy.

"How are we going to get into the tunnels from here?" Archer asked. He was trying not to gasp out loud, but the pain in his torso got worse with every exertion. Andie had insisted that he wear Chang's reinforced vest and had secured the garment herself, pulling the sides tight enough to act as a cast around his damaged ribs. He may be in pain, but the vest was definitely helping. He almost considered telling Reed he was right and heading back to Galen's camp. Perhaps Andie was right and it was arrogance and glory-hounding that kept him in the thick of things after all, he considered.

"Through my room," Andie tilted her head. Reed moved ahead of her, to check the corridors between the chambers for guardians. There were none and the group moved across the hall.

Once there, the humans turned their eyes to Captain Roland. "I don't know where it is," he shook his head. "My experience in the Watchtower has been limited. It has always been a sacred place."

"Split up and look for it," Reed ordered softly. The others complied.

Andie pushed a toe across the floorboard in a halfhearted attempt to look for trapdoors, but then her gaze froze on the large bed. She moved to the footboard and closed her eyes. Her hands moved through the air in front of her as though she was directing actions. Someone came to stand beside her.

"What are you thinking?" Jon's voice murmured.

"If someone stood over my bed, I would have waked," she said equally softly.

"You were very tired," he pointed out.

"I've never been so tired that I wouldn't notice a stranger looming over me," she stated firmly, opening her eyes. "The arachnidans aren't trained spiders." She lifted her gaze. "The only way someone could have gotten them onto my pillow would be to drop them from above."

They both looked up. Around the room, the search came to a halt as the others raised their eyes to the same location. Chang was the first to move, stepping up onto the bedding and using his baton to press against the wooden planks. One moved slightly under his pressure. Reed joined him on the bed. Together the two security officers pushed the trapdoor up and peered into the gloom.

Soon Reed had been hoisted into the darkness and once he determined that nobody was currently occupying the space, he signaled for Andie. Roland followed, and then Archer, who gritted his teeth to keep from gasping out loud. Chang pulled his body up lastly and closed the door, leaving the group in darkness. Malcolm pulled out a scanner and used its blue LED panel to illuminate the path he chose.

The crawlspace led to a ladder made up of iron rungs buried deep into the stone wall. The ladder led down into the earth. Periodically there were nooks and openings that indicated other passages to be followed. Reed ignored them all, except to determine that there were no hostile guards located in those places. His intention was to get deep into the earth and secure the room that held the hostile chemicals. On the off-chance that they accidentally completed the formula the entire fortress would be lost. Therefore extinguishing that threat was the first on the list.

Using his scanner to determine their location, Reed finally got off the ladder and signaled the others to be quiet. It was probably unnecessary, but he did it anyway. His next action was to seek out the doctor; he was certain she would be causing trouble but he found her standing just behind the captain, and checking his condition on her make-shift scanner without alerting her superior officer to that fact. Reed caught her eye and asked her a silent question. Her answer was an eye roll and a shrug that seemed to indicate that Archer's condition was unchanged. That didn't seem reassuring but there was nothing else to be done about it now. Reed signaled Chang and Roland to step forward. Andie put a hand on Archer's arm and detained him while the security force moved forward to clear their way.

When they returned, Reed signaled several things with his hands. Roland looked confused and Andie made a rude gesture in return. "Does it look like I speak commando?" she hissed irritably.

Reed exhaled slowly. "There are a dozen guards. That's nearly twice our number but we have the advantage of technology. Chang and I will take out what number we can with our firearms, but it will come down to a fight." He looked at Andie. "You should remain behind."

"We'll see," she grinned coolly. Her hands rested easily on the hilts of her borrowed daggers.

Archer stepped forward. "We don't have the advantage of numbers so we'll have to use every man to get this done."

Malcolm clenched his jaw in frustration but he nodded at the captain's words. He made some more hand gestures and the group got into their assigned positions. Chang and Reed stood on opposite sides of the open portal. They took careful aim and fired. Two men fell. The rest were not taken by surprise. They dove behind the barrels of chemicals and the sound of metal weapons being drawn from their resting places was nearly deafening.

"Damn, I thought we'd get more before they knew what was happening," Reed muttered. He ducked as an arrow buried itself in the wall behind his head. He remembered to use the term 'arrow' loosely, for it was truly just a length of metal with a sharp end. Fired from a crossbow it had deadly speed and pretty good aim.

Captain Roland was unaccustomed to waiting. He stood in the doorway, bellowed loudly and dashed inside. A man left his position behind his barrel to take aim at his opponent and Chang's rifle brought him down. Roland ducked to the side and took shelter behind a loose boulder that some of the guards had been using as a table.

Archer attempted the same maneuver, slipping around the MACO in the corridor and dashing inside. His body blocked Reed's attempts to fire at the enemy, and one of Herak's guards flung his body at the incoming captain, knocking them both to the floor. Archer groaned with the pain of taking the weight of the flying man's body but continued rolling, flinging him off to one side. A shape blurred over his head as Reed leaped on the man attacking the captain. Jon noted that Reed's pistol fell close by and he scrambled to acquire it.

Chang cried out as a pair of arms wrapped around his torso from behind, and he was involved in grappling with his own attacker, and could offer no more tactical support. He lifted his feet and pushed against the nearest wall and their tangled bodies were forced across the passageway, driving the weight of their stumbling bodies against the man behind him. The arms loosened around his chest and Chang drove an elbow into the attacker's chest. A firm grasp of the wrist preceded a rough twist and the attacker cried out right before Chang's fist met with his face and dropped him to the ground in a slump.

Inside the room things were beginning to look bleak. But then suddenly, they got better.

One of the guards hiding behind one of the many barrels in the room lifted the wooden lid from a supply of sulphur and bashed the man in front of him with its heavy weight. The man slumped to the floor. The traitor turned and used the side of the barrel lid to knock the man next to him to an unnatural sleep. Clearly he was not working for Herak.

More traitors popped up around the room even as the humans continued their struggle. Reed's fist guaranteed that Archer's attacker would not get up any time soon. From his knees, he scrambled across the dirt floor, throwing his arms around the knees of a man sneaking for a better advantage. The man tumbled to the floor and Reed was on him in an instant, using his legs to pin the man's arms to his side while pummeling his face with well-placed fists.

Across the room Chang kicked a smaller pony barrel into the shins of a man who was drawing his sword in the crowded room. His night stick met the metal blade in the air and while keeping the weapon at bay, he punched the attacker. Captain Roland was deep in combat with his own foe. He seemed to have the upper hand. It was resting against his foe's neck and he repeatedly slammed it forward, forcing the face to drum against the wooden barrel.

Archer gained his feet by leaning against the rock wall at his side. His hand shook as he lifted the pistol but he took careful aim. Just then, the world shook around him, tossing him to his knees. The fortress walls groaned as though they might collapse at any moment, and the battle stopped as noise filled the corridor, causing everyone's ears to ring with the sound. Men looked around, faces paling in the dancing light of the torches that illuminated the room.

One man raised a hand and called for a halt to the skirmish. "Take heart! The lady returns!" When he doffed his leather hat, it was clear that this man was Captain Merwyn, leader of the Tower defenses. About a third of the men still standing in this room lowered their weapons and nodded encouragingly. The sudden compliance confused the invaders. Chang retrieved his rifle and aimed it at the group. Archer guarded the others with his pistol.

Malcolm lifted his head from his position astride a fallen man. His eyes frantically searched for one person in particular, but he did not find her. "Damnit, Andie!" he groaned, scrambling off the horizontal man and making for the portal once he acknowledged that his companions had the matter well in hand.

Once Andie realized that the men were involved in retaking the explosives, she backtracked through the corridor to the room where she had been held before. She found Theia there, secured in the cage. She cut the bindings that secured Dagmar and the Potters, all of whom sported fresh cuts and bruises. While they rubbed their hands and ankles to get circulation going again, she begged a hair pin from the lady and began working on the lock.

Getting out of the room wasn't as easy the second time. A guard rushed in, carrying his sword. Dagmar grabbed Theia's hand and pulled her to the back of the room, pushing the young woman behind her. Andie didn't cower. She parried thrusts with the guard, using one of the daggers she'd brought. She kept moving to her left and when the guard changed position to face her, the male villager lifted a heavy silver urn and whacked the guard over the head with it. The guard sank to the floor.

A second guard appeared to block the door and there was no other escape for those inside. He was in no hurry for he felt reasonably certain of his success. "You are mine now," he told them with a dark smile.

"We belong to no man," Andie refuted. Over her shoulder she spoke to the Chosen One. "Theia? Scream for me. Scream loudly."

"What?" the lady asked confused.

"Scream!" Andie commanded.

Theia opened her mouth and a shriek echoed through the caverns built under the castle. The walls shook with the sound. Their attacker paused, slightly off-balance with the movement of the ground under his feet. Andie wasn't. She had spent enough time surfing to know how to reclaim her balance on a troubled sea. She ran toward him. He braced clumsily for an attack.

Instead of thrusting her weapon at his face, she dropped to one hip and slid across the dirt floor, pulling the fork out of her boot as she moved and driving it into his shin as she passed. His scream of pain silenced Theia's. On the other side of his frame, Andie planted her metal-toed boot into his thigh just above his knee. The muscles in his leg seized up in pain and Andie scrambled to her feet. Extending one leg to its full length, she kicked him in the head and his body slammed into the wall before sliding down into a puddle.

The sound of boots running through the corridor caught her attention and Andie reaffirmed her grip on her dagger as she braced for the incoming enemy.

Malcolm cleared the corner, convinced he would find them all slaughtered but what he found was worse than terrible. "Damnit, woman!" he raged. "You have no concept of being a team player, do you?"

Andie relaxed her aggressive stance and pasted on a cheery smile. "I found Theia," she announced brightly, extremely happy to see someone other than the expected bandit. Her statement brought forth several exclamations from Malcolm, most of which raised her eyebrows. "Potty mouth," she muttered when he was done.

"Blast it!" he seethed. Instead of ranting further, Malcolm drew in a deep breath and tried to will his arms not to strangle her. Silently he jerked his thumb over his shoulder and Andie, in turn, nodded encouragingly at the group behind her.

"Lady Andrea saved our lives," Theia announced as she passed Reed. "She moved like the wind."

"Stop it, I'm blushing," Andie smirked playfully, falling into step beside Reed.

He didn't look happy with her, but he didn't say anything further until they stood in the room with Archer and the others. Andie knelt in the corner, offering what first aid she was able without a kit to the villagers and to the cook while the men talked.

"Soak all these chemicals in water and they won't burn, no matter what Herak does to them," Reed instructed. "They'll be useless."

"You are in luck," Merwyn explained, eyeing Captain Roland warily. By defending the Watchtower against the King, he'd been working against Roland. Clearly he expected some sort of retribution. "Herak only has about two dozen men that cannot be swayed from their loyalty to him. About half of them were down here, guarding these barrels." Now they were tied up on their knees around the room.

"That leaves a little more than a dozen men on his side up there," Reed finished.

"He has many more at his side," Merwyn corrected him. "But they are Watchtower kin, and they followed him out of fear. If you can put down Herak, they will fight no longer for his cause."

"How did this man get so many on his side?" Roland growled.

"They had little left to lose," Merwyn suggested. "The world is coming to an end."

"There is no more time for talk. We must free the villagers," Theia interrupted plaintively. All eyes turned toward her and she shrunk somewhat, unaccustomed to the attention.

"She's right," Andie added, planting her body between Theia and the questioning gazes of the rough men that surrounded them. "In the event that Herak might have more barrels, we can't leave the villagers to be used as Herak's pawns."

"We can't attack Herak and the guards in front of the Hall at the same time. We don't have the manpower for that." Reed protested.

"There is a passage," Theia offered hesitantly. So many months lived in secret made the intense attentions of the soldiers hard to bear, but she carried on. "It opens up inside the Great Hall."

"So we get the villagers out through the passageway and let them out in the town," Archer suggested. "That keeps them out of harm's way."

"There are guards inside the Hall," Reed declared. "They would alert others to the exodus."

"Not if they are distracted," Andie noted.

"How do you intend to do that?" Reed demanded harshly.

Andie just smiled. "I'm very good at distracting guards," she assured him.

In spite of his hostile feelings toward her, an intrusion into the Great Hall would provide an opportunity to pin Herak's hostile forces between the intruders entering the fray behind them and the oncoming Royal forces just outside the gates. _And she was very distracting_, he acknowledged. And she could take care of herself; it was something she did better than almost anything else. Malcolm turned his gaze to Archer for final confirmation.

Pushing his body off the wall where he reclined carefully, Archer ground his teeth together against the dull throb of pain he was feeling and nodded his assent.

Roland leaned in closer to Reed. "Do you really think that one woman can distract an entire castle?"

Malcolm looked directly at the doctor, whose hands rested on the jeweled hilts of twin daggers sticking out of her belt. She had reacquired the tattered satchel she had carried with her and although it was nearly empty, it rested across her shoulders with easy familiarity. The bruises she suffered from her skirmishes earlier in the day were beginning to darken the skin on her face and neck. If there was one thing he could say with absolute certainty about the doctor, it was that she had a gift for distracting the people around her.

"She'll get the job done, if we can get her into a position to be distracting," Reed answered. Both Roland and Merwyn seemed skeptical of that, but Archer stood up straighter and signaled Chang to make preparations to move out.

"We're a little more than three hours until midnight," Archer announced. "Let's get this wrapped up before then. I'd like to wake up in my own bed tomorrow."

"2030 hours? That's all?" Andie snorted. "It's been a really long day."

"It's not over yet," Reed reminded her.

Merwyn left most of his men behind to damage the barrels with water, taking only two with him as he joined the growing group. Andie refused to allow the Potters to join in, and a pair of men was assigned to escort them to the outlet in the hidden shack. Theia would not be deterred and insisted on going with them.

"Theia, your continued survival is crucial to the survival of the Tower," Andie insisted in growing frustration. "You have to protect yourself!"

"My people are in danger and I will be there to lead them out of it! I will not leave them!" Theia persisted.

"Damnit, woman!" Andie hissed, running her hands through her hair in agitation.

"How does it feel to be on this side of that argument for once?" Malcolm snorted.

The doctor threw him a look like she wanted to tell him off, but he might retaliate by telling her that she would have to be the one to secure Theia elsewhere so she clamped her mouth shut with visible effort and settled for a glare.

Chang and Reed led Merwyn, who stood at Theia's side, and Dagmar followed just behind her. Archer and Dr. Andie trailed after and Roland brought up the rear with a couple of extra men.

The final assault was about to begin.

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Seven: Night_

Hoshi was proving herself as a future commander as she barked orders to as many of the crew as she could with the list she held in her hand, herding bystanders into a safe area, while charging others to clear debris from the edge of the launch site. She kept everyone too busy to worry about failure. Everything was coming together in a rush.

Trip's calm was holding firm. He wasn't sure where it was coming from; only that he felt like he was drifting in a very pleasant fog. He took his place in the redesigned shuttle. Romero was already settled in the rear seat, a rifle strap holding his weapon across the chest plate of his shiny gold EV suit. Trip took a moment to brush his fingers over the sparse control panel and concentrated on breathing evenly.

Travis Mayweather bounced into the Pod as though he was leaping onto the bus to head to the local Galleria Mall. "Let's kick the tires and light the fires!" he called out brightly. It took him but a few seconds to strap his body into the cold metal chair. "Do you want to take the first leg, Commander?"

I_'d like to take a leg and smack Mayweather with it_, Trip thought. He closed his eyes and thought of the shiny, copper cylinder resplendent with blue and violet lights that was the heart of his ship. She hummed and she whispered and she was waiting for him. "Go ahead, Ensign. I'm sure you'll need something to write home about later."

The ensign hit the power switch. The pod started jiggling. There was a lot more noise in a pod stripped of its upholstery. Without cushions there was a lot more movement too. The pod lifted off the ground, using its thrusters and Trip sighed. They were officially underway.

"Yikes! I can't believe I almost forgot! And I call myself a Cochrane fan?" Travis suddenly abdicated controls and started patting his chest and pants, ignoring the way the fragile craft dipped in response to his inattention. "No! No! No! I've jinxed the whole thing! Oh! No wait, I've got it! We're good!" He pulled a disk out of his pocket and slipped it into a slot on the side of the control panel.

The most god-awful sound that Trip had ever heard suddenly overwhelmed the frantic thudding of his heart in his ears as he clutched the arms of his chair, and the noise clanged through the small confines of the crowded room.

Travis shrugged and rolled his head around and rocked back and forth in his chair, lip-synching and pointing at Tucker to encourage him to join in._ "Why don't you come with me, little girl, on a magic carpet ride."_

"Steppenwolf?" Romero questioned dubiously from the back seat. "Why did it have to be Steppenwolf?"

Trip rolled his eyes. Travis offered one final rebel yell before grabbing back the helm and directing their pod further up into the atmosphere. When the blue lights had reached the peak of their ability, he hit the throttle and they began their precarious climb.

* * *

_The Watchtower_

_Day Seven: Night_

It was fairly easy to slide ten people through the narrow confines of the sliding door in the pantry. Andie insisted that Theia wait in the kitchen in order to direct the flow of people straight into the secret passage, and was relieved when the woman actually complied. Dagmar fell back with her mistress and Merwyn looked torn between two duties. In the end he left the women in the safety of the kitchen and joined the others as they slipped out into the great room and blended in with the gathering of people there.

The tables had been picked nearly clean by half-starved stomachs and now most of those villagers reclined in various sleepy poses throughout the room, their insides so full that they were aching and demanding rest in order to process the intake. Just a few were assisting their digestion by parading slowly around in circles and the invaders slipped into place beside them. Their progress was loosely monitored by four guards, loitering near the double doors that led into the inner courtyard, in the hopes of being called into more active service rather than the relatively dull work of watching prisoners who didn't mind being imprisoned.

In fact the first guard was rather surprised when one of the wandering people stopped suddenly just an arm's length away from him. He had not witnessed the progression of this particular person walk straight from the kitchen to stand in front of him. "Get back!" he growled. His partners looked up listlessly.

They were more attentive a few seconds later when a hard blow drove the first guard to his backside. Two of the guards struggled to release their weapons from their scabbards, but were overtaken by at least four men. The fourth guard felt a tap on his shoulder and spun around to face the woman who had recently been killed with great fanfare by the Imminent Queen.

"You're...you're dead," he stammered.

"I got better," Andie assured him with a cold smile. Before he could continue to object, she planted a knee between his legs and he dropped to the floor.

As the guards were being bound with various pieces of leather, a terrible boom echoed through the room. Several people were dropped to the floor, confused about what was going on. They cried out and created a hum of noise that would be soon be heard by anyone outside the Great Hall.

Malcolm could only hope that those guards outside this door were as confused by the unexpected cannon fire as the prisoners were. He wasn't confused. "That was cannon fire," he stated.

"Galen's firing on us?" Andie spat out, annoyed. "I guess peace talks broke down."

"That came from inside the Tower," Merwyn noted.

"We have to stop Galen from returning fire!" Archer joined them.

"We have to get these people to safety," Andie corrected.

"I will escort the Lady and her people through the passage," Roland announced.

"Her safety is my job," Merwyn averred, knowing that Roland spoke of Theia and not Andie.

"The safety of the Tower is your job," Roland corrected. "I do not know these halls as well as you might and your knowledge will greatly assist our benefactors to disarm this fortress before it is too late. Someone will need to explain to King Galen that the crowd appearing out of the darkness so close to his camp intend him no harm." He looked intently at Merwyn. "I would give my life to save her in your stead," he vowed. Regretfully Merwyn nodded.

"You should go with them," Andie suggested to Archer.

"I'm going with you," he told her stubbornly.

"You are in no condition to go with us," Malcolm spoke quietly from nearby. "Your condition would be detrimental to our objective." He had noticed the growing discomfort suffered by his commanding officer.

"Besides you should play to your strengths, as I will play to mine," Andie told him, surprising Reed by her assistance. "You go rescue the girl, Jon. Leave the bitch to me." The last line was barely more than a growl.

Behind him Jon could hear Roland speaking to the crowd, explaining that Sadiré had betrayed them all and had left them here to die, but that there was a way out if they would follow him.

"Don't kill her, Andie," Jon directed with utter seriousness. "We're leading a rescue; we're not a war party."

"I will do everything in my power to see that she lives," Andie promised evasively.

He would like to do more than what he had accomplished today, but his torso pained him with every breath. Had he been in better health he would never have nodded his head in agreement. Reed's shoulders relaxed slightly at the captains' acquiescence. The moment of relief disappeared as he took stock of the doctor and thought of going into battle with her. "Let's get this over with," he sighed, placing a hand at Andie's back to nudge her toward the door. The moment had come when he had to decide whether to watch the captain or the doctor and he was making his choice. He just wished that his alternatives were more appealing.

"Are you ready?" Merwyn asked as he stood at the door with the two men he had brought up from the tunnels.

In spite of his many reservations, Reed nodded. Andie drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly as she took her place at the center of the group, while Archer turned his back on his crewmen and started ushering the villagers into the kitchen and the narrow tunnel beyond.

Kicking the double doors open was pretty easy, and it knocked one of the guards outside over as it swung at him. The pair of Tower soldiers attacked the sentries, and Andie swept past them all without waiting.

Merwyn and Reed followed in her wake as she moved through the courtyard. The old guard tapped Reed on the shoulder as they neared the dividing wall and the men broke off in another direction. Andie didn't flinch when they broke off. She just climbed the narrow stairs on the dividing wall that kept the inner courtyard separate from the outer ward. The men entered a small door that opened onto a winding staircase which deposited them in a sentry's nook. It was empty. save for an old unmanned cannon. They set to work rendering it obsolete so they could move on to another.

"I hope your lady can distract Herak's attention from our work," Merwyn whispered to Reed as they moved through the chilly darkness.

From outside a shout was heard. _"Hey! Patricidal whore! I've got a bone to pick with you!"_

Malcolm briefly clenched his jaw. "Yeah, I think she can manage." He waved Merwyn to continue, praying softly that she wouldn't get herself killed before he could rescue her again.

* * *

_Starfleet Escape Pod_

_Same time_

It was time. They had risen as far as they could on directional thrusters alone. Tucker didn't dare risk looking at the very young ensign next to him or the battle-hardened marine behind him, for fear he'd start thinking of all the things they would lose if this plan went even just the tiniest bit wrong. There was no more time to waste. He took a deep breath and pressed the first detonator button.

The sudden gust from the explosion sent Tucker slamming back into his chair as the little pod lurched upwards. Several dials on the navigation screen just started spinning out of control, leaving no context of their gauges. The shaking grew more pronounced and Tucker barked at Travis to turn off that damned music. Travis complied, his eyes wide. His hand slipped off the button once before the music died out. It wasn't any quieter without the rock music. Metal housings rattled against one another and Tucker imagined he could feel the bolts keeping his chair on the floor plating rattling their way out of the grooves. The ride smoothed out a little, and he risked another gulp of air.

When the second light lit up on his instrument panel, Tucker hit the second detonator and prayed.

* * *

_The Watchtower_

_Same Time_

Sadiré's head was swimming with all the possibilities of her life. She would be a queen! She would hold the power! She would have everything she ever wanted! She was assured of her place in history until a voice directed her attention away from the battle field.

"Hey, patricidal whore; I've got a bone to pick with you!"

Lady Sadiré turned from her post at the head of the Tower walk with her jaw wide open and her eyes nearly bugging out of her head. "You're dead," she breathed. She inhaled then shouted. "You're dead! I saw you fall!" Her mother had seen ghosts before she had passed and that didn't bode well for the young woman's state of mind. Sadiré's mouth was suddenly dry even as her vision spun in circles around her.

That cursed woman only shouted back smugly. "Honey, I don't fall. I fly." She stretched out her arms and tilted her head to the night sky. "It's a glorious night to take wing!" Her voice carried across the audience below. With her head tilted back she saw something that the others in the Tower had not, intent as they were on the campsite near the ravine. She saw a bright white light leap up over the tops of the trees in the distance and continue in a straight line; up, up and away.

A smile lit across Andie's face.

"You're not real!" Sadiré cried out, wiping her face with her hand to get a better look. "You're a ghost!"

"I'm as real as your prophecy, Sweet pea," Andie told her. "A thousand years ago this land was beautiful and prosperous! Then the lights fell from the sky and the world was unmade! You named me the Chosen One and I stand before you tonight to recreate the event. The stars will fall at my command and I will remake the world as I see fit!" She pinned Sadiré with a look. "Do you doubt me?"

The imminent queen gathered her wits about her. "Kill her!" she commanded her army.

They took aim.

The sky was lit up by a large red ball of fire. Far away over the trees, a ball of fire flew toward the murky sky faster than anything had ever moved in this world.

"Yee haw!" Andie jumped up and down on her tower walk and let out an ululating rebel cry that echoed around the acoustics made by the mountains around them.

The crowd of rough men below dropped to their knees and covered their heads with their hands, cowering in fear of something they never thought to see with their own eyes.

"_You don't know what we can find. Why don't you come with me, little girl, on a magic carpet ride?"_ Andie belted out a breathless and off-key tune made famous by the band Steppenwolf in the twentieth century. "_Let the sound take you away!" _She waved her hands in the air and danced a little jig on the castle wall, whooping and shouting with glee.

Sadiré thought nothing could be more frightening than that first red ball of flame, but just as she raised her head to take stock of her surroundings, there was a second explosion. That red ball turned into a shade of green she'd never seen, and it sped faster toward its place in the sky, growing smaller as it went, but leaving behind a trail of color in the cloud cover that perpetually covered the land.

* * *

_Starfleet Escape Pod_

The inside of the pod grew hot as they threesome traveled on a ball of fire toward the atmosphere and the plating on the outside of the tiny conveyance took a hit from temperatures that threatened to cook them alive. They were happy to be wearing the bronze EV suits that helped to regulate their temperatures, but all three were secretly hoping that the shiny fabric would be enough.

Travis gripped the stick in his hands, his only means of guidance and held it firm. The pod rolled around on its axis and Tucker took a moment to be grateful that Truax had demanded restraints be employed.

At a grunted command from the engineer, the three men braced themselves and gritted their teeth. The final detonator was deployed. Once more they were flung backward against the unforgiving metal of their chairs and they gasped as their speed increased, along with the rumbling and shaking inside their pod. With one final rumble they burst through the final layer of atmosphere and shot through the familiar black darkness of outer space.

The intense pressure of their positions was suddenly released as gravity ceased to matter. If it weren't for the harnesses they wore, they'd be drifting all over the gently rolling pod. Tucker took a moment to gulp a lungful of air while mentally counting his fingers and toes. His brain seemed to recognize all ten of each and he exhaled deeply. "_Everybody all right?_" he checked in with the others. His voice sounded tinny in his ears through the speakers.

"_Which way is _Enterprise?" Travis panted. He was so scared he was sweating profusely and entertained a brief mental horror story of drowning in his own perspiration inside his suit. The slick gloves nearly slipped off the joystick and another nightmarish flash sped across his vision as he considered that he might have sent them all tumbling back toward the earth.

Romero didn't say a word. It took every ounce of effort just to pry his eyes open.

Tucker wriggled around the cramped seat, fumbling the handheld scanner as he checked dials and gauges that seemed to be functioning normally. "_That way, bearing 024, mark 4.6_," he pointed with his gloved hand.

The navigator nodded stiffly, turning the joystick with a practiced hand as they started the final leg of their journey.

* * *

_The Watchtower_

The third burst of flame could barely be seen from the ground, although the cloud cover lit up across the whole valley. As the final trail of fire disappeared, Andie stopped her exuberant gyrations and smiled widely at Sadiré, making certain to show as many teeth as possible.

"A thousand years ago the world was unmade," Andie shouted out, making sure her voice carried across the courtyard and beyond. "But powerful seers spoke of a time when the world would be remade again. And this Tower was the key to that powerful remaking. A steward was selected to guard its secrets with his life. And through the years the Stewards did, passing word from father to son until Declan fell from the Tower." She took a deep breath. "'Fell' isn't the right word, though, is it Sadiré?" Andie glanced at the men who were beginning to struggle to their feet though dazed and confused. "She's a faithless whore. Do you know what she's done?"

"Those living in Galen's kingdom thought they were the only people left on the earth, but there were others," Andie went on, without waiting for answers. "They lived in the Sunderland. They heard of a great power and they set out to take it for their own. A caravan passed over the Great Dry Plain. They lost many people, but they persevered. And some survived the crossing." Andie looked back at Sadiré, whose face remained pale and clammy.

"Letizia was a woman of means in the Sunderland. She intended to marry the man who held the great power. But when she reached the Tower she found the Steward was already married and his wife was expecting a child. Being an accomplished herb woman, she poisoned the wife of the Steward, but not before the Lady delivered a healthy baby girl, called Theia."

"Shut your mouth," Sadiré wheezed, struggling to her feet.

"Letizia employed her potions to bewitch the Steward. Acting under the influence of her herbs, he set aside his grief and married her before his wife was cold. Which was fortunate for Letizia since she was already expecting a baby of her own," Andie added sarcastically. "I guess it was a very long trip because Letizia got too friendly with the body guard sent from Sunderland to protect her and nearly put an end to the whole plot by producing a bastard."

"Silence!" Sadiré shouted, standing upright with her eyes flaming.

"She taught her daughter everything she knew about herbs and poisons. I bet she told you stories every night about how great it would be to command the Watchtower. One day it occurred to you that she didn't mean that you would be in command. _She_ intended to become the Steward one day. And so you took what you'd learned from your mother and you poisoned her; you slipped toxic leaves into her tea every day. That tea made her paranoid and crazy until she died from it."

"You cannot know such things!" Sadiré protested.

"I cannot see the future, but I can see the past," Andie countered. "One day you realized that Steward Declan intended to pass his knowledge of the Tower on to his other daughter, Theia. She would reach the age of majority before you and you would lose all hope of harnessing the power for your own. So you started plotting her demise, but the _ktiryas_ got to her first. They attacked her and dragged her off before you could put your plan in motion, but it didn't matter because you would have killed her anyway."

"She was born of common blood!" Sadiré spit out. "I am a queen!"

"A few months later on your birthday, you planned to kill Declan after he handed over the key to his only living relative. But he stood here on this Tower wall and told you he'd already given the key to Theia. So you stabbed him with a knife dipped in Arachnidan venom and pushed him over the edge." Andie looked hard at Sadiré. "That's when you brought Herak into the Tower. He was your mother's body guard on the long caravan trip. He had been living in the forest, feeding off the _ktiryas_. He offered to help you look for the key."

"We are going to be married and I will rule this world as I see fit!" Sadiré burst out.

Andie snorted. "You can't marry Herak! He's your father!" The genetic test Andie had done on her hand had compared the genetic material she had gained from Sadiré and told the truth.

"That's not true!" Sadiré paled again. "We have pledged our love!"

"He was your mother's lover, the body guard from the caravan! How could you...?" Andie blanched. "Oh, you didn't. You haven't actually...He took you to his bed? Ew. Ew! EW! You may think he's just some guy, but surely he knew you were actually his offspring...EW!" Andie shuddered. "Remind me to tell you the story about Bad Touch Daddy."

"We will be married and he will allow me to rule this world!" Sadiré challenged staunchly.

"Oh, honey, he won't allow you to rule anything," Andie informed her. "He's going to kill you as soon as you hand over the key to the Tower. He's probably already slipping a familiar toxic herb into _your_ tea."

It was Sadiré's turn to blanch. "No," she shook her head. "That's not true!"

"If you weren't half-dead already you would have noticed that you never killed Theia. She lives. She has continued to live her life safe in the village just a stone's throw from here. She proved her devotion to King Galen by gifting him with the key Declan gave her."

"That's impossible!" Sadiré shrieked.

"She goes by the name of Evany," Andie told her.

"That bitch of a cook!" Sadiré bellowed, recognizing the name. "I'll kill them both!"

"You killing days are over," Andie told her. "I've neutralized the explosive powder downstairs. I've released the villagers from your Great Hall and I'm about to kick your ass off this Tower wall. Your delusions of greatness are at an end."

"You think that stockpile is all that we had?" Sadiré countered. "Not only does Herak hold the key to my heart and the key to my Tower; he also holds the location of the only remaining explosive powder left in this fortress."

"Galen stands at the door. Your fortress is infiltrated," Andie pointed out. "Your plans are at an end."

"You can't stop me!" Sadiré continued on, raging to the skies with fever-bright eyes. "Nobody can stop me! I am a goddess!"

"That's where you are wrong," Andie smiled coolly. "I'm going to stop you right here and now. Better kiss your butt good-bye." Twin daggers flashed in the torchlight as Andie began to move.

Malcolm had bee listening. He had bolstered Merwyn's courage when the fireball had lit up the sky. He had rolled his eyes at Andie's impromptu dance. And he had noticed that all the men in the ward were on their knees, watching the women argue back and forth and left the first cannon aimed directly at Galen's campsite open to attack with their inattention.

He and Merwyn moved in the dark, knocking the sentries over the head and lowering their insensate bodies to the ground. They worked together to pull a vital metal pin from the inside of the cannon, making certain that they would not be fired again tonight. Only one cannon remained.

Of course, it was on the other side of the Tower walk, beyond the newly torn whole where a cannonball had dropped the doctor off the side of the wall. And it was on the other side of the dueling women who were preparing to tear each other apart like wild cats.

Why weren't these things ever easy?


	22. Chapter 22

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 22

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

Dark eyes watched the progress of the little pod until it was gone from sight. The flares from the explosions were blinding and they lit up the sky. T'Pol could feel the earth tremble beneath her feet as each percussive wave drummed in her ears.

"That went well," remarked Ensign Sato at her elbow. "Now I guess there's nothing else to do but wait."

Regretfully, T'Pol lowered her eyes from the reddish cloud where they crewmen had last been seen. "There are tasks to be completed," she objected softly. Idleness had never been her strong suit. "Captain Archer commanded Sergeant Chang to the battle field. Who is the senior-most security officer still on active duty? They should be sent to assist Corporal Woods hold the final outpost."

"That would be Lieutenant Truax," Hoshi replied.

"Who is the highest ranking MACO?" T'Pol asked, unwilling to send Truax to fight.

"That would be Sergeant Mackenzie," Hoshi answered, after checking her data pad.

"Send the sergeant," she decided.

"We only have one phase pistol left to defend camp," Hoshi added quietly. "Should I send that with Mackenzie?"

Only one pistol of the four that made it down to the planet remained. The other three were lost or in the hands of other members of the crew far away from the Hollow. T'Pol made a mental note to suggest that the pods be outfitted in the future with weaponry. She was certain that would please Mr. Reed very much; he'd been attempting to pass this particular regulation for some time now.

Starfleet Hollow had not been deterred by this setback. They had been inventive in protecting their own. Tiger traps had been dug and camouflaged at the edge of camp in several areas. Rocks had been gathered and piled in neat pyramids at several other likely avenues of intrusion to be used as projectiles. Several members of the crew had collected tree branches and sharpened the ends with knives from their mess kits to be used as spears. It wasn't much, but it was what they had at their disposal.

"Send the pistol with Mackenzie," T'Pol decided. "If she can use it to assist Captain Archer or the other members of our crew in the middle of their skirmish, she should. We seem to be out of the direct line of fire for the moment. We will make do with what we have."

"Most of the crew has decided to wait up for any further details. Shall I have Chef prepare you a cup of tea?" Hoshi was worried about the Vulcan. T'Pol had been far too withdrawn, even more than normal, and the changes were becoming more noticeable.

"I am not thirsty," T'Pol answered quietly. Her hands were trembling and she surreptitiously clenched them to stop the irritating movement. "I will check the perimeter again, and then I will check on our patients in the Medical Tent. Carry on, Ensign."

The dismissal was unmistakable. Hoshi felt like there should be something else she could say, but she acquiesced with a nod and joined Ensign Caffrey and Crewman Cutler near one of the bonfires.

The Vulcan ignored the chill in the air and walked the perimeter, deep in thought. It should be easy to remember that Captain Archer often succeeded where others had failed, usually due to the employment of a tactic nobody else had thought of, but there seemed too many variables working against the human male tonight. There was nothing else to do but wait to see if he would be successful again this night.

Inside she nodded curtly at Ensign Black and recommended that he take his dinner at this time, before ducking her head to enter the recovery room. Private Finn was sleeping fitfully, perspiring and moving restlessly in his bunk. T'Pol settled down on the other bed and watched him rest and tried to consider what her next move might be if this dangerous venture came to no good end.

Commander Tucker and his crew may have made it successfully out of the atmosphere, but there was still the possibility that the ship was impossible to breach or that the space frogs might still be active or that a stray asteroid had damaged the ship without someone on board to guide it to a safer trajectory. The worst of it was that she might never know. If Tucker didn't return, she might never know what happened to him. She tried to consider what a reasonable timeline might be for this futile waiting before she would have to come up with another course of action. If he hadn't come back by morning, she would have to send word to the captain, assuming the captain had also survived the night unscathed.

She checked the time; only a few minutes had passed. Not enough for the Escape Pod Team to have done anything, nor was it enough time to merit another progress report on the battle below. The evening was determined to crawl slowly and T'Pol was aggrieved that there was nothing else to do but wait.

* * *

_The Watchtower_

_Great Hall_

"What makes you think we ought to follow you?"

Archer was having trouble herding the villagers into the narrow tunnel. Roland had spoken to the crowd, explaining that Sadiré had betrayed them all and left them here to die, but several members of the crowd were refusing to follow yet another self-proclaimed leader. They'd had so many over the last few days they weren't sure they could trust another one.

"Didn't you hear him?" Archer shouted, regretting every painful breath he had to draw to make his voice heard. "You have to get out here! Sadiré will be back to finish what she started!"

"Two days ago you assured us that our lives would be safer up here, and we had to leave our homes and sleep in the dirt like vermin, and now you're telling us we would have been safer there the whole time?" That same villager piped up, and his objection was met with grumbled chorus of agreements.

"Two days ago I didn't have all the facts. I wasn't sure who had your best interests at heart and was trying to keep as many of you alive as possible." Archer's head was beginning to ache.

"Lady Sadiré seems to have all the facts and have our best interests at heart," the village spokesman argued again. "She is the one who moved us from the outer bailey and into this warm room. She offered us this tremendous feast. She seems to be taking care of us just fine. Perhaps it is you who is planning a terrible fate for us."

"I am not planning to harm you!" Archer argued heatedly. "I'm trying to see to it that Declan's proper heir gets her rightful place as the Protector of the Watchtower!"

"Declan was a good man, but he had was also a fool. Before his first wife was cold he had begun relations with Lady Letizia," an old woman broke in. She had a large hair growing out of the bottom on her chin and Archer wanted so badly to pluck it out. "Before he had time to present the key to his daughter, he fell off the tower walk. He was a fool to wait so long."

"Besides we've been taking care of ourselves just fine," someone else piped up. "Perhaps we don't need some stranger stepping forward and telling us what to do."

Captain Roland tried to interject. "Lady Theia..." he began.

"If Lady Theia cared about our feelings, she would not have left us continue to believe her dead for so long!" Hairy Chin sounded terribly offended at being left out of the big secret.

Theia entered the room from the kitchen. There were lines of distress showing on her face, proof that she was feeling terrible about her part in the deception of her people. "Please, good folk!" she begged. "Do not let your upset with me interfere with this man's message! He speaks the truth. You must leave this building before Sadiré can attempt to destroy it and destroy you in the process!"

"There is no such manner in which to destroy the Watchtower!" the first spokesman shouted in return. "It has stood for a thousand years and it will stand for a thousand more!"

"Then how 'bout this?" Dagmar stood behind Theia in the doorway to the kitchen, holding her big butcher's knife firmly in her grasp. "The next person to speak out against Theia gets a gutful of my blade!"

Archer hurried to her side as a sizable gathering of folks turned their unforgiving bearing to the feisty woman protecting her young. "That's, maybe, not the best way to get them to join our cause," he muttered near her ear, tugging the kitchen tool out of her hand.

"Well they sure weren't listenin' to you with your pretty speeches, were they?" Dagmar snorted.

Archer rolled his eyes. _It was like being trapped with Dr. Andie after all._

There may have been further discussion of the whole mess were it not for the walls that suddenly started trembling. The darkness that seeped in through the slits near the roof was washed away with the color of red. There was a terrible crackling boom and people inside and out cried out in fear. Archer and Roland rushed to the door and peered out, to find a small bright light zooming up into the atmosphere on top of another terrible burst of fire, and Dr. Andie could be seen whooping it up on the walkway that divided the two wards.

"The King attacks the Watchtower!" someone cried out in the crowded room and there was a sudden rush toward the double doors. Sergeant Chang stepped into the opening with his phase rifle and directed the flood of frightened people back toward the kitchen.

Theia was shoved aside as they fled in their fear. Her body was crushed against a wall as the press of people grew, the torrent sweeping Dagmar away from her charge. Archer signaled Roland and the royal guardian moved forward with the strength of a man accustomed to pushing his way through a battlefield of armed intruders. Roland gained the forefront of the stampede, and began calling out directives in a tone that brooked no disobedience, trying to herd the terrified rabbits into a single line moving in the direction of the secret tunnel. Archer moved around the panicked mob and grabbed Theia's arm, ignoring the sharp stab in his chest as he pulled her out of harm's way and back into the Hall.

"Thank you, Sir Archer," she panted. She was trembling under his grip.

Jon looked around. "At least they are following Roland through the tunnels after all, even if it took a blind panic to get them to move." His tone was disgusted.

"Can you blame them for not knowing who to trust? The commander of the Watchtower has been altered several times over the last year. They don't know who to follow any more."

_The loss of a leader can destroy a people_; the doctor kept telling him this. Archer could see it now, spelled out in simple terms like this. He had read the report about the attack near Azati Prime, about how T'Pol had waited far longer than she should have, waiting for his return from his suicide mission. Her perseverance had worked to his favor then and there had been no consequences for her actions. But this group of people had almost been obliterated because they could no longer trust the leaders they had. Archer awkwardly shifted his weight on his feet as he thought of the reckless way he had walked away from camp when his people needed him most. He vowed he would find a way to make them trust him again.

A soft moan broke through any further reveries. Archer and Theia looked around to find a portly man lying near the fireplace, and clutching his stomach. They didn't know it but this was the man who had an attack earlier, causing Malcolm to think that his escape from the Great Hall was noticed. Theia rushed to his side to offer aid, while Archer followed at a less painful pace.

"I cannot move," the portly man moaned again. "I think it was something I ate."

Archer decided this wasn't the moment to worry about contaminating a local culture with technology and he pulled his data pad out of his pocket, He scanned the man and frowned at his results while Theia wiped the man's sweaty brow with a cloth and offered a reassuring smile.

"This can't be right," Archer shook his head. "What did you eat?"

"A little of everything," Portly stated grimacing. "But my insides did not ache until I dabbled my food with that pepper I found under the table."

"Pepper you found under the table?" Archer prompted the man to finish.

One shaking finger pointed the way. "I had dropped a delicious dumpling and didn't want it to go to waste. When I ducked my head under the table, I saw a barrel of powder. Obviously it was too large to fit on top of the table and they had stored it underneath, and forgot to place some upon the table to serve. Why, once when I was offering a meal to my neighbors, we had nearly consumed our entire meal before I remembered the _tacrolls_. They were burning slightly in the ash of the fire and I stood up and said "The _tacrolls_!" and we all had a good laugh..." The man chattered on as Theia offered him kindnesses while Archer moved to the table he had indicated and got down on his hands and knees to see what powder the man found.

He pulled a small keg from under the table, grunting at its weight. Pulling the top off, he sifted his fingers lightly through the top layer, running his scanner over the top of it. "Oh, no!" he murmured.

"No, the dinner was quite successful, even without the _tacrolls_," Portly insisted.

Ignoring the rambling man, Jon ducked his head under the other end of the table. There was a second half-sized barrel at the other end of the table. "Oh, no!" Jon repeated. He darted his eyes around the room. There were four more barrels in varying sizes standing against the supporting wall near the fire place.

There weren't any fuses in the gunpowder, not that Jon could see, but that didn't offer him relief. His landing party was missing two phase pistols; one held by Baldric who was now dead, and one held by Herak. Malcolm hadn't recovered the pistol from Baldric before he'd been eaten and Andie claimed that Herak's pistol was no longer functioning, but he wasn't certain he could trust her judgment on that matter. Her primary training wasn't in weapons. And her bag had been lost, including her own pistol, he remembered. Andie's alien firearm had obliterated the poor Lucan in the forest but that didn't mean that it wouldn't work for someone else; that man had been particularly sweaty, after all.

He had sworn to protect Theia, and take it easy, but here he was, stuck in a room full of chemicals that would destroy this Hall and half the mountain behind it if someone had a good idea how to set it off.

"We have to leave right now!" Archer stood up, dusting his hands off before he took one more step closer to the fireplace. "Grab his arm!"

"My lady! Do not fear! I was dragged out by those wild heathens, but I have returned! I will never leave you!" Dagmar the cook raced back into the room, clutching at her skirts with one hand and the kerchief covering her head with the other.

Jon would have huffed if it didn't cause him severe pain to breathe. "Help us, Dagmar!" he called out. "It's important that we leave as soon as possible!"

Dagmar skidded to a halt. She stared at Archer with one eyebrow raised for just one second. "Let's go, Lady Theia. You grab that arm and I'll get this one. Mister Archer if you could bring up his rear?" Dagmar directed her mistress into the task of getting Portly on his feet.

In spite of his injury, Archer did what he was asked, gritting his teeth against the sharp stabbing pain that ran across his chest when he exerted his body to lift the pudgy man off the floor. Portly didn't seem inclined to travel very fast; he moaned and cried out pitifully with every movement. Theia seemed inclined to stop and fuss over him, but Dagmar kept her sharp eyes on Archer's glistening visage, and hurried her lady along.

They were almost all the way to the kitchen door, close enough to smell the freedom that the hidden tunnel could offer when a sound turned their heads back to the mess.

Archer's last coherent thought was this: _I had forgotten about the damned arrows!_

* * *

_Starship Enterprise_

_Portside Docking Hatch_

A hard seal wasn't possible. The space frogs had chewed up the soft material that unfolded to latch around the portals on the escape pod and they lost pressure and oxygen as soon as they opened the inner door. Stepping into the deserted corridor Tucker allowed himself to hope that the space frogs had also departed the ship, and that he and his companions would not be chased back to the hatch only to find the pod was missing because of the lack of a firm seal. Considering what they were up against they thought the empty halls were more worrisome than the hordes of ravening beasts might have been. The _Xhardin_ ship had also been deserted when the humans had first set foot inside.

It didn't set his mind at ease that only Corporal Romero was armed. Accessibility to weapons had become a top priority. He considered making a note to allow hand weapons to be stored in various areas around the ship in the event of attack. _Malcolm would be proud if he were here_, Tucker thought.

"_Where'd they all go?"_ Mayweather wondered out loud. To his credit, his voice barely shook at all through the tinny speakers. _"Are they gone?"_

"_They're not gone,"_ Tucker assured him. _"They might be hiding. Or breeding,"_ he added gloomily.

"_I hope they're hiding,"_ Romero uttered dourly. He wasn't afraid to fight them if it came to that, but he didn't want to do it with only one weapon between the three of them. _"Which way?"_

Trip considered the possibilities as the shadows filtered slowly around the lights on their helmet, offering an unobstructed view of the debris left behind by carnivorous beasts. _"We make our way to Engineering,"_ he decided. _"Anything we do is gonna need juice from the engine, and we gotta make sure there's enough of that."_

"_Keep your eyes open for weapons that may have been dropped before, sir,"_ Romero suggested. _"We could use the reinforcements." _He moved forward in a typical half-crouch, turning from side to side to perpetually check for unseen dangers.

The darkness was eerie. Trip couldn't help the shivers that climbed up his spine when he considered the state that his ship was in. Their progress was slow, hampered by the sealed bulk head doors, piles of refuse, broken replicant sacks, and acidic juices littered the floor, and they had to pick their way carefully. Every slight sound, every fluttering shadow made them jump nervously.

They moved forward until they found a maintenance tube to climb. Now they stood on D deck and had to proceed toward the stern to find a way into Engineering. Gravity remained in this portion of the ship and made the suits even heavier than they had been. Every step felt leaden. Ignoring the sweat pouring down his back, Tucker moved forward to the closest bulkhead, checking his scanner for signs of life and life support. It seemed they were still in luck; the area behind this bulwark was devoid of frogs and still sporting atmosphere. Tucker sighed in relief, pulling a tool kit out of his pocket and making adjustments to the panel on the wall. The bulk head slid open about halfway then stopped.

Exchanging glances, Romero was the first to drop down and inspect the area on the other side. _"Looks like some frog guts have befouled the mechanism. We'll have to crawl."_

If it was difficult to be in a shadowy corridor full of unseen carnivores, it was even worse to be in that same corridor, but on your hands and knees in a bulky suit that made it impossible to glance over your shoulder. On the other side, there were signs of battle: not one but two sword hilts littered the ground, along with a broken tool kit and several disturbing piles of goo. The panel on the opposite bulwark had been tampered with but it was still holding firm. There was some good news to be had too; they were standing next to the transporter pad. Although the ship's main engine was off, the low-level emergency lights were still illuminating the circular area.

Unfortunately the bulk head they had just come through would not seal shut. The goo that befouled it had frozen the barrier solid, halfway up and halfway down. It made them all shiver to turn their backs on an unsecured entrance, but there was nothing else to do about it.

To make matters worse, a few meters down the corridor any further progress toward the engines was impeded by a blockade, no doubt created to keep the frogs away. There was no way to know if they had been successful; the frogs still persisted in silence. Taking stock of their surroundings, Travis was the first to break the silence.

"_Commander, I think there's still some juice in this thing!"_ he murmured, checking the read outs on the transporter console.

Trip sighed heavily. _"Well that's something. We can't get a message to the rest of the crew. This might be the next best thing. Let's see if we can't tie into the surrounding systems and boost the power. At least there's air here and we don't need the helmets."_ He popped the seal on his headgear and took a deep breath; immediately he wished he hadn't. The others followed suit.

"Did you hear that?" Romero held up a hand and listened intently to the darkness that surrounded them. Without the tinny noise of the speakers, his voice was strangely hollow.

The trio held still and strained their ears for a hint of whatever spooked the marine.

"I don't hear anything but my heartbeat," Travis whispered a few moments later. He caught Trips' eye and they both glanced at the corporal.

"Let's hurry," Trip suggested grimly. He and the ensign got back to work while their lone security agent kept watch.

* * *

_The Watchtower_

_Outer Ward_

Andie slowed her approach on the far side of the gaping hole. It left the waiting female on the far side frustrated and growling uselessly. Andie took a quick peek into the nook where the other cannon had been secured the last time she saw it. The nook was empty. "What did you do with my other cannon?" Andie called out loudly, hoping her companions would hear her question.

"It is not your cannon," Sadiré insisted with a screech.

"Oh, but it is," Andie assured her. "You named me the Chosen One. All that you had is now mine."

"Come and take it from me, apparition!" Sadiré taunted, gripping the hilt of her sword tightly.

Down on the ground, Malcolm tried not to raise his head too far; it would give away his alien features, but he was deeply interested in the exchange going on above his head. He and the alien guard had descended the stairs and were walking among the other people in the outer ward, creeping across to the other stair case. Most interesting among the exchange was the knowledge that Herak had moved the final weapon. "What is the range of that canon?" Malcolm asked, reaching out a hand to stop Merwyn's progress.

"It could damage Galen's forces from as far back as the dividing wall," Merwyn murmured, nodding at the barrier between the forecourt and the aft.

"Bollocks," Malcolm murmured in return. He glanced around then changed their course.

On top of the wall, Andie tilted her head to one side thoughtfully as Sadiré raged loudly. "This is going to hurt you quite a bit," she noted. Drawing both daggers into her hands, she leaned into a crouch before lunging forward, like a runner at the mark. Reaching the gaping hole in the wall, she leaped into the air with her arms spread wide clearing the gap easily. Sadiré may have been ready for the attack, but the weight of Andie's whole body landing on top of their crossed blades drove Sadiré backward, stumbling over the hem of her gown.

As the imminent queen tried to rally her blade into action with a shoulder that stung from the first blow, Andie lifted one booted foot and planted it against Sadiré's backside, causing the woman to stumble again. "Look at that!" Andie huffed. "I told you I'd plant a boot up your butt! Turns out I can see the future after all!" A second swipe with the other dagger drove the stumbling woman backward again.

Merwyn had just noted the appearance of a crate in the center of the ward, and they were starting to move in that direction when Malcolm checked nervously on the doctor's progress. To be honest, he had no idea why he never believed her when she assured him that she could take care of herself. He never doubted that Mackenzie or Parsons could take on a physical fight, but then they were marines and had been specifically trained for that sort of thing. Andie was a doctor, no matter how unconventional her background might be, and doctors certainly didn't go around winning fights in hand-to-hand combat.

But Andie was not your typical doctor. He had seen the signs when they were sparring in the gym; had, in fact, noted that she was probably holding back on her assault of him. He'd just had no idea how much. She flew through the air like a raptor stretching out her talons to prey, and he was impressed with the way she showed no faintness of heart; only intractable determination.

Her third swipe made Sadiré scream, clutching at her head. One dark tuft of hair drifted to the ground as the woman's complicated coiffure fell around her face on one side.

"I have cut your scalp. Your scalp belongs to me now. Surrender and I may let you keep the rest of your bits and pieces," Andie told her solemnly, waggling her blades menacingly.

"You cut my hair!" the princess squealed. Her violet eyes narrowed before flickering back and forth as she tried to formulate an attack. Her sword swept out with murderous intent.

Andie parried the thrust and kicked the killer in the ribs. While Sadiré gasped for breath, Andie swiped her blade again and again the younger woman screamed, clutching her face. A small cut appeared just under her right eye.

"I have cut your face. Your face belongs to me now. Surrender and I may let you keep the rest of your bits and pieces," Andie repeated solemnly.

Malcolm snuck another look at the women above even as he crept closer to the final canon. The doctor was graceful and powerful, driving her opponent backward without hesitation, yet so careful about causing permanent damage. It was like watching a skilled ballet dancer going through familiar steps. In fact if he listened hard enough, he could almost hear the music in her head. She was going to be fine without him. Malcolm turned his full attention back to the task at hand.

Stumbling over her skirts, the toxic princess kept spouting venom as she retreated from the oncoming storm. "I have studied from the best of instructors!" Sadiré boasted, rallying her sword and swinging her blade. "I will pay back every drop of blood you spill!"

Andie didn't seem impressed. "I learned to fight from professional killers. You will not take a drop from me." Andie was unencumbered by a dress. Her legs moved forward without impediment, driving Sadiré back toward the staircase on the far side, both blades flashing and winking in the torchlight. She deflected one blow and launched one with her other hand. Sadiré was hard pressed to keep an eye on both knives while using one hand to scoot her train out of her path of retreat and wielding her own weapon.

"You can't stop me!" Sadiré continued on, raging to the skies with fever-bright eyes. "Nobody can stop me!" Still backing away from Andie's onslaught, she passed the first platform over the gatehouse. It allowed men to pour boiling oil over any intruders at the door. "You will fail!" Sadiré continued, in spite of her withdrawal.

"You will fall before me, as will all who follow you!" Andie assured her. They passed by the second platform, moving into the shadows of the steep mountain on the interior side of the fortress.

Sadiré immediately stopped retreating. Instead of simpering further, she stood straight and cackled with laughter. "You think you have won? You have only postponed the inevitable!"

Perhaps it was just a flicker of a shadow that alerted Andie to the presence of another. The platform over the gate hid a trapdoor in the stones, presumably leading down to the secret tunnels. And a man who knew those tunnels well had just used it to set foot on the wall walk where the woman battled, fencing Andie between himself and his lover.

Stepping out of the shadows, Herak brought his heavy broad sword down in a stroke that should have killed Andie. But the athletic female ducked under the blow, planted a foot on the outer merlon and launched her body in an arc over his head, landing lightly in a crouch on the merlon on the other side. One blade dropped down in the curve between Herak's neck and shoulder and swept up into the air causing him to howl with pain at the warning slice. Again Andie lowered her head and flipped her legs in a circle through the air, landing on the merlon just on the far side of Sadiré. One heavy booted foot swung out and kicked Sadiré's hand; the inexperienced female dropped her weapon and drew back toward Herak for protection.

"Two against one? That's not very sportsmanlike, is it?" Andie taunted breathlessly.

"You're like an injured _esther_, who doesn't know when it's too wounded to go on living!" Herak bellowed.

"I'll put her down!" Sadiré cackled madly. From somewhere in her skirts she pulled a familiar piece of weaponry.

Andie's simmering gaze flickered over the firearm. "Is that my pistol?" she asked with a frigid smile. "If you pull that trigger, you'd better hope you take me down. Because I'll tear you apart into a thousand bits and pieces," she promised.

"You will regret the day you crossed me! I am the Chosen One!" Sadiré shouted.

"You are an insignificant speck!" Andie countered with a hiss.

The thought of being insignificant brought forth a screech from the pampered _prima donna_. She secured her finger around the trigger and pulled.

Not a damn thing happened. The power cell was completely empty.

Nobody was more disappointed than Andie, except perhaps for Sadiré, but for entirely different reasons. The pouting princess threw the offending machine away.

Herak growled curses at his offspring and whipped the flat of his blade across the walkway. It connected with Andie's upper legs and she fell backward through the air, into the outer ward.

"Drea!" Reed had been in the process of slipping through the two dozen men loitering in the open area, when he heard the shriek and turned to take another look at the women. He needn't have worried. She had the damndest luck; nobody knew that better than him. When Andie hit the ground, she landed on a pile of coarse hay, temporarily relocated from the stables to make room for the villagers who had settled here a few short days ago. She tossed her feet over her head and rolled off the pile of grass, still holding on to both of her daggers.

Malcolm made a mental note to never underestimate her ability to survive again.

By now he had attracted some attention with his outburst. Men were looking directly at him with growing fury. They started to gain their footing and close in on the outsiders.

Andie didn't waste time. She decided that the title of Chosen One may have brought her an untested advantage. "Halt!" She cried out with one hand up. "Those two do my bidding! Anyone who interferes with them will have to answer to me!"

Her threat stopped a handful of Herak's men in their tracks. They had just seen the woman, who was supposed to be dead, return from the grave and apparently command fire in the sky. They had seen her fly through the air like the avians of legend from the historical scrolls. They had seen her take on their leader and come out on her feet. And they had seen the strange silver weapon, like those that had appeared so recently, refuse to fire against its mistress.

Eight men dropped back to their knees and lowered their gaze to the ground.

Andie's saucy wink at Malcolm was interrupted by her irritation at their inactivity. "Hey! Don't just sit there! Get up and stop the others!" She waved at the men who continued advancing on Merwyn and Malcolm. Those eight men got up and drew their own swords. Andie sauntered closer to Malcolm. "I thought you could use some help," she told him with a self-satisfied grin.

"I was thinking the same thing about you," he responded dryly.

"Why does everyone think I need to be rescued?" she sighed with great exaggeration.

"Behind you," Malcolm warned helpfully.

Andie turned her head to the side and found a dirty man creeping up behind her. She spun the daggers around in her hands and then spun her body in series of short circles around her attacker. When she was finished, all four of his suspenders had been severed and his pants dropped around his ankles. To add insult to injury, she planted a boot on his dirty, naked bottom and knocked him to the ground. "Kneel before the Chosen One, fool!"

Malcolm snorted in brief amusement before he was battling his own attacker.

* * *

_The Watchtower_

_Great Hall_

Malcolm and Merwyn had thinned the ranks left outside the double doors when they proceeded to disable the canons, but more were coming into the courtyard. Sergeant Chang turned his back on the Hall to do battle against the incoming men. His phase rifle made a strong deterrent for that first wave, but there were other men positioned on the dividing wall, firing arrows into the fray that made holding his position difficult.

Something was happening in the other courtyard. It distracted the archers positioned on top of the wall and Chang knew he had to take the chance that was offered to him. He fired two shots and brought them tumbling to the ground. The sound of a woman screeching filled his ears, and he had concerns about the doctor. Climbing the stone stairs two at a time, Chang reached the upper level and glanced at the chaos forming down below.

Reed and Merwyn were battling against most of the crowd, but a few members of the crowd fought on their side. Andie was on her feet and harrying some man with two sharp knives in her hands. But there were two troublemakers on the battlement opposite his position and it looked like they were going to interfere with the balance of butt-kicking. Chang lifted his rifle to his shoulder and took careful aim.

* * *

_The Watchtower_

_Outer Ward_

Herak pressed his advantage, raising the phase pistol he had usurped and pointing it at that damned woman who just would not fall. Before he could press the trigger, a bright beam of light struck his grip and he howled as he dropped his weapon. He was forced to come down off the walk to retrieve it from the pile of hay where Andie had landed moments before. Malcolm had no intention of allowing that and moved forward. Andie had every intention of assisting him, but found her own hands full with her current assailant. That didn't keep her attention from wandering more than it should have and she nearly found herself beheaded. Luckily for her, one of her newest subjects stepped into the fray and occupied the attention of her attacker, leaving her free to gaze.

To be honest, she had no idea why she had so much trouble believing that Malcolm could ever inflict damage on another person. He may be a gentle man, but he had earned the position of tactical officer on the flagship of Earth's burgeoning fleet and you didn't do that by being delicate. She had read the mission reports; he had saved many lives while on board. But planning raids and disarming enemies from the safety of a station on the Bridge was a far cry from assaulting a man who stood a head taller and carried a couple extra stones worth of weight on him, not to mention a man who possessed some seriously disturbing killer instincts and disgusting hobbies.

Without hesitation, Malcolm ducked his shoulder and met Herak's body just above the waist as the taller man reached the final step, throwing the taller man off-balance. The pair hit the ground with Reed on top. He shifted his weight, using his legs to pin Herak's arm to his side and planted several crisp blows to the man's face before Herak got his legs under him and launched the armory officer off, dislodging the phase pistol from Reed's belt as he did so. Neither man noticed; too intent were they on their own struggle. Malcolm rolled to one side and avoided a vicious kick to the ribs. Another movement brought him back to his feet, crouched low and ready for combat.

Having spent a lot of time among men who fought for power or greed or sheer cussedness, Andie was expecting some fancy tactics designed to show off. Striking fear into the heart of the enemy could be accomplished by posturing as well as skill, but the lieutenant wasn't out to impress anyone. He was lean and ruthless. He didn't waste time or throw any excessive punches. Every blow connected with the precise spot for which it was intended, eliciting grunts of pain from the larger man. It was rough and primal and Andie had the feeling she would never look at the gentleman the same way ever again.

In fact she spent so many seconds watching him that she was surprised when an arrow buried itself in the ground at her feet. She spun around to catch sight of the archer, standing on the outskirts of the skirmish. She flipped one of her daggers around in her palm, catching the slender blade easily before raising her arm and sending the projectile toward her attacker's face. He ducked long enough to be assaulted by one of her newfound body guards.

Merwyn worked as quickly as his shaking hands would allow, disassembling the cannon's firing pin while keeping an eye on the approaching crowd of men. His nerves were somewhat allayed when the group of men who had converted their ideals upon Andie's charge, converged upon the rear flank of the mob and started striking blows. He managed to finish his work just as a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and spun him around. There was just a second to brace himself for the impending strike when he felt a breath of hot air singe its way past his face. He opened his eyes to find his opponent on the ground, breathing but not moving. Merwyn raised his face to the top of the middle walkway and found a stranger there.

Sergeant Chang nodded curtly at Merwyn before sighting another mark through the scope on his phase rifle and squeezing the trigger. A third blast felled another man in the fray before Chang turned his head behind him, sighting some newcomers to the fight appearing from behind him. He had offered some needed tactical support, but he was drawn to the sound of battle in the other ward. Now he turned his attention back to the Great Hall in time to drop a pair of latecomers to the assault. An arrow flew past his head, too close to be a lucky shot. He was exposed on this walkway, and now he could hear frantic shouts from inside the Hall. Chang dropped back down to the ground and returned to guard the captain's back.

* * *

_The Watchtower_

_Great Hall_

The world had become terribly confusing. Arrows had flown out of the dark night and planted themselves in the barrels of explosive powder, but they hadn't detonated. That may just be luck, and Jon hated to place his whole faith in something as ethereal as serendipity.

Archer moved back toward the entrance, barking a command at the women to get Portly out of harm's way. They struggled under his weight, but worked to comply. Jon seized a long skewering fork out of the remains of the meal on the table and prepared to meet the attackers. Two came through the door. The first one got a fork shoved in his shoulder and he dropped to the ground. The second advanced with murderous intent. Jon yanked a platter off another table and tried to smash him with it. The swarthy guard deflected the blow and advanced. Archer's legs hit the back of a table and he could retreat no further. Wind wheezed out through his lips, along with something wet. He feared his internal injuries would impede any further battle.

The guard raised his heavy sword. He prepared to bring it down. A whistle in Jon's ear preceded the look of surprise on the guard's face just before the attacker hit the ground, a dagger sticking out of his chest just above the metal breastplate he wore. A quick glance over Jon's shoulder showed Roland, moving into the room, pulling a sword and another dagger and holding them with professional ease.

"Get behind me," Roland commanded.

"Maybe we can barricade the doors with the tables," Archer gasped.

Roland took one look at the winded human and nodded. He replaced his weapons and helped Jon turn over a hefty table in front of the doors. Intruders would have to break the barrier down first. It didn't take long. There was a stump for cutting wood for the kitchen fires nearby and the axe was being used to cut into the heavy door. Archer used the time at hand to gather skewers and forks and knives, and shake his head at the madness of using dinner utensils to guard his life. What he wouldn't give for a good old-fashioned phase pistol at the moment!

They came through; four men who looked like they had spent too much time in the woods. The world was beginning to swirl around Archer's eyes. He fought to stay conscious. Roland dealt with the first man. Archer parried a blow from the second. A third man attempted to cut Roland down while he fought but a wooden foot stool flew through the air and knocked him back into the wall. Dagmar nodded in satisfaction, sweeping Theia behind her even as the gentle lady offered another stool for throwing to her well-muscled cook.

Roland lashed out at Archer's attacker and sliced deeply into the man's arm. Unable to hold a sword, the attacker dropped his weapon and tried attacking with his bare hands. The chest pain flared to life as Archer grappled with him. The captain of the guard moved behind Archer to usher the ladies out of harm's way.

Chang came through the door, rifle in hand, and used the butt to knock down one of the fallen men who struggled to stand. The man fell down and did not get up. Chang moved in behind the captain, released the hold on his weapon and it fell back on its strap, leaving his hands free. A two-handed fist on the assailant's sliced arm brought out a howl, and released the hold. As Jon stumbled backward, Chang dealt punishing blows to the man's face. The assailant fell and lay still.

The captain tried to gulp air to thank his marine when he saw something else coming through that doorway, something that could not be stopped with fisticuffs. A bolt of white hot light seared its way in, superheating the wooden pony keg holding the volatile chemicals. Archer grabbed Chang's arms and spun him around, throwing him to the ground behind one of the massive tables. Now that the sergeant was facing the door, he saw the danger out of the corner of his eye. He grabbed Archer's arms and pulled him down.

Red hot fire seared through the room in a blinding flash.

* * *

_Starship Enterprise_

_Deck E: Transporter Alcove_

"God I hope this works!" Trip made a general plea to the universe to play straight with him. "Do you have those coordinates yet?"

"It's not as easy as it looks, trying to pull a single bio-sign out of a group of people," Travis protested. He studied the fuzzy readout and tried to readjust the signal again. Hoshi always made it look so easy when she could pull whispers out of bits of static.

"Travis!" Trip made urgent noises.

"There! I think this is it," Travis held up a pad.

"You _think_ this is it? You _think_?" Trip repeated.

"If you can do better, Commander, please take over!" He shoved the data pad at the engineer, who took it with a sigh.

"I'm sure it's fine," Trip agreed. "You do good work, Ensign. When I'm not thinking about beating some of the energy out of you, that is," he added with a smile.

"My mom always said the _Horizon_ could double her speed, if they could hook warp injectors up to me!" Travis grinned back.

"Be quick, Commander," Romero suggested. "I really do think I hear something."

"Let's hope this works," Trip nodded, turning back to his machinery. "And let's hope it doesn't give out and spread his particles all over space," he added under his breath.

Trip flipped a few switches and prayed.

* * *

_The Watchtower_

_Outer Ward_

The battle was nearly over. The number of Herak's followers was dwindling, but the cruel man gained his feet and lunged forward, grabbing a handful of Andie's hair. Using her as a human shield, he dragged her through the dirt of the open area toward the phase pistol he had dropped when it was shot out of his hand by the other human. She hissed and struggled under his rough grip. Malcolm dealt a final punch to his current aggressor and moved to assist.

Andie's raging voice carried over the other sounds of battle. "Let me go, you overgrown bohunk!" She struggled uselessly at the end of his grip, accomplishing nothing more than tearing out her own hair.

"You have turned my men against me," Herak growled. "I will kill you for that!"

"Are you always this inadequate?" Andie hissed angrily. Twisting around at the end of his arm, she noticed something familiar sticking out of his belt. She glanced up at his face, judging the odds of retrieving her _d'k tahg_ blade from its current position of dishonor.

"Let her go!" Reed commanded. As he closed the distance between them, he saw a silver pistol grip sticking out of the loose hay near his foot. He tried not to focus on the weapon, hoping to reach it before Herak saw it. He caught Andie's eye and she raised an eyebrow. Only one of his fingers flickered. Andie followed his gesture and raised an eyebrow. She understood.

"Come one step closer and I'll kill her!" Herak bellowed, tugging on Andie's hair to lift her chin and offer her pale neck to his jeweled dagger.

"Help me!" Andie whimpered breathlessly. "I'm...I think I'm ...Golly..," her eyes caught Reed's in a steady gaze, "I'm think I'm having a vision!" she announced ironically. _"CHEGH-chew jaj-VAM Jaj-KAK!"_ Then she went entirely limp, ignoring the pain to her scalp.

The portent of the Klingon proverb about this being a good day to die was lost on those around her. Herak's arm faltered under the unanticipated weight. His eyes moved to the woman in his arms and Reed took that second to move toward the phase pistol. Andie's eyes flashed open as Herak moved his dagger away from her neck to point at Reed. She shifted her weight to her left, reaching out a hand and yanking her cherished blade free of his belt. With the same movement she jabbed her knife deep into the tissue in Herak's upper thigh. He screamed. She removed the weapon with a jerk and kept moving.

Reed had the weapon in his grip and was rolling to his feet. Andie shifted her weight, trading the blade to her right hand and spinning around, stretching her arm out behind her. The primary tip of her _d'k tahg_ sank through Herak's shoulder. His arm released her with a violent shove and the woman toppled over, slamming her body into the nearby wall.

Dazed, she lifted her head. "Reed!" she pointed with a shaking finger.

Lady Sadiré, looking less like a lady all the time, swung a discarded scabbard like a club. It was made of metal and wrapped in leather, so it was plenty to fear. Reed hit the dirt to avoid the blow and she stumbled. Herak scrambled through the dirt to risk a left-handed punch at Reed before he lunged over the top of the fallen human, and took off at a shambling run for the rear of the outer ward.

"I've had just about enough of you!" Andie snarled, struggling to her feet. She landed a punch in Sadiré's gut and when the woman bent over, Andie grabbed the rear hem of her dress and pulled it over her head, tucking the fabric into the front of the woman's bodice. Sadiré was wrapped in cloth and couldn't make heads or tails of her position as she tussled with the many layers of material.

"Herak's getting away," Reed panted in her ear.

"Let him go," Andie gasped for air. The world grayed around the edge of her vision.

He grabbed Andie's arm. "I can't tell if he picked up the pistol that you sabotaged or if he picked up my functioning weapon when I fell."

"Crap!" Andie exhaled heavily. She started after the cruel man.

"Andie, wait!" Reed had seen something on the ground that stopped him cold.

Reed's warning fell on deaf ears and not just because Andie wasn't listening. As soon as Herak cleared the opening between the outer ward and the inner courtyard, he drew up his arm and squeezed the trigger of the phase pistol in his hand. The functioning weapon sent a beam of light streaking through the air and superheated a pony keg of material waiting inside the Great Hall next to the fireplace.

The building exploded in a series of blasts that grew larger with every detonation. The shockwave flung every body away from the blast site. Heat and fire singed everything within range.

Andie made it to her feet, her ears still ringing with the detonation. Her vision was slightly off-kilter but she could see the cruel man's hulking form rising slowly from the ground from his position a few meters ahead. Her shaking hands were holding a small dagger. It wasn't one of the pair she'd been using; both had been lost in the previous battle. Andie couldn't remember where she got it from. It didn't matter. Andie hefted the heavy instrument into her grip, catching the naked blade in her palm.

"He's dead," Herak grinned. Blood dripped down his face from cuts. "There was no way out of there. Your leader is gone."

"He never liked me anyway," she stated sadly. She reaffirmed her grip on the dagger and used the weight of her whole body to fling it through the air. As she watched the weapon fly toward its target, tingles began to infiltrate her extremities and for a moment she thought she might really be dying. But the tingles gave way to a singing chorus of lights and for just a moment she was in two places at once.

Soon her atoms solidified and she found herself standing on the transporter pad somewhere far above in space. As soon as she was fully reintegrated, she dropped to her knees with a squeak. Strong hands caught her under her armpits and she could feel her body being moved.

Sparks glittered out of the corner of her eye. Someone was cursing loudly. That someone hit a machine and cursed rather fluently in a southern accent. Shadows passed in front of her gaze and then there was a light that was too bright to look at. Her ears were ringing again, with a familiar set of chimes. More sparks flew through the air and she retained enough presence of mind to flinch away from them.

There was another body in the room. She shivered in the cold and shook her head to clear it of cobwebs. Looking around she could see that she had traded one war game for another. At least she was somewhere familiar.

"There's no place like home," she murmured with a tired smirk.

"We've got to get outta here," Trip grunted.

The sound of hysterical laughter was growing. It oozed out of the walls and echoed around the empty vessel.

The space frogs were on their way.


	23. Chapter 23

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 23

* * *

_Starship Enterprise_

Something white sprayed through the air, covering the machine with foam.

"What the hell, Travis?" Tucker burst out.

"They're attracted to heat, right?" Travis put down the fire extinguisher he had used on the transporter console. "I'm covering our tracks. Maybe they won't follow us if they can't find us right away."

Not really in the mood to argue, Trip just nodded. He looked around and found Malcolm kneeling in front of the doctor. She was sitting on the floor with her back to the wall, in exactly the same position she had landed when Mayweather had dragged her off the transporter platform. "Is she all right?" he asked.

"Your timing was impeccable, Commander," Reed murmured. He cupped her face and lifted her chin. "Doctor? Are you all right?"

"Five more minutes, Dad," she murmured. Her lips twitched as her eyes slowly slid open. "Colm," she exhaled with a bemused smile, placing a hand on his chest and delighting in the feel of a human heartbeat under her fingertips which told her that he was still alive.

"Drea," Malcolm murmured in reply. "Are you all right? Were you injured? Can you move?" He thought her eyes were not as focused as he would have liked, but in the semi-darkness it was hard to make a firm diagnosis.

"Commander?" Mayweather's voice was tense. "They're coming." He held a data pad and peered first at the screen and then at the dark corridor where the blast door would only drop halfway down.

"We've got move!" Tucker commanded sharply. "Those damn things are comin' back!"

Reed was still kneeling before Andie. "We have to keep moving, Doctor." The tone was soft and British.

"I'm all right," she assured him tiredly. He wrapped his callused hand around her cold fingers and tugged gently, forcing her to her feet. "We have to go." She swayed and clutched at his shoulders until she regained her balance.

Trip looked long and hard at the pair before shaking his head to clear it. "The MACO's took the captain straight to Sickbay. If we don't hurry, we're going to get cut off," he barked quietly.

Both combatants were stunned. "The captain is here?" Malcolm clarified. Under his touch he could feel the doctor start to tremble.

"We brought him up first, but he's in bad shape. The MACO's didn't waste time; just started to move him straight to Sickbay. We need to hurry if we're going to make it there too." Trip's words were clipped short, but that didn't take away from the intensity of his scrutiny of the pair before him. _It felt like he hadn't seen them in weeks_, Trip thought. They were both dressed in strange clothing, which was torn and dirty. Andie wore a thick leather vest tied securely across her torso but the shirt underneath was ragged at the hems. Reed wore a longer tunic, but not an outer jacket. A week without heat had made the air chilly, but the fires that still burned in some places on the ship had kept the temperature from outright freezing.

Trip nodded at Mayweather and the navigator started the lead the way through the tangle of corridors. Malcolm started to follow but he realized quickly that Andie wasn't following. He turned back and tried tugging on her hand to encourage her, but she hardly budged.

Malcolm turned back to Andie. "We have to keep moving," he prompted her again.

"I don't think I can do this." She glanced around skittishly. "I don't like the dark." The faint sound of laughter was growing more acute.

"Don't worry; I'll protect you," he assured her solemnly. It was an echo of the sentiments she whispered in his ear when they were trapped in the underground aqueduct.

Her reaction was less than supportive. "You're kidding, right?"

"I'll never leave your side," he promised. His fingers entwined with hers.

Andie scowled. "I thought your speech was supposed to make me feel better." She fell into step behind him though; their fingers still entwined.

Before he could remind her to keep behind him and stay away from his gun-wielding arm, even if it was currently wielding no such device, Andie had already fallen into place. She hovered just in the periphery of his vision; when he moved, she moved, like an extension of his shadow. Some security personnel still couldn't grasp this fact of the hunt, to keep the view clear and the strong arm free. She had good instincts. Even if her fingers were entwining so tightly with his that he couldn't feel the digits of his left hand, he noted uncomfortably.

Trip looked back once to check on their progress and shook his head with wonder. A few days ago they were practically at one another's throat and now they couldn't keep their hands off one another.

It was amazing the difference a few days could make.

* * *

_Starship Enterprise_

_Deck D_

Whispered conversations caught them up on their situation. The space frogs were on the move and had taken over large portions of the ship. Those portions that remained alien-free were often unreachable, due to the decompressions suffered at the portal openings of the vessel, or the bulk heads that had been dropped down, or in one case, where a fire still burned. Plasma would smolder for a very long time.

Travis removed the hatch from the maintenance tube they had traversed before. He stuck his head inside and waved a flash light around. Very quickly he pulled his head back up and slammed the cover over the opening. Trip stepped in to help him secure the latches. "No good!" Travis panted. "They've covered the lower corridor."

"How the hell are we going to get to E Deck?" Trip fumed. They were having a hell of a time navigating the ship. The transporter alcove was near the front, while Sickbay was closer to the rear of the ship and one deck down. But bulkhead doors had been deployed to cover outer hull breaches and the space frogs had created quite a mess. Not all the corridors were viable. "We're cut off!" Trip fumed, slamming the flat of his hand against the wall, angry that his best girl would conspire against them in this way.

From behind them came a gentle inquiry. "How far down this tunnel can we get? Past Engineering?" Andie leaned in the corridor opening, but looked over her shoulder toward the end they were trying to reach. She had finally released Reed's hands and he was grateful for the circulation.

"Not all the way, why?" Trip sighed.

"We can get across, if we move quickly."

"The port airlock is depressurized," Reed refuted. "And that last plasma explosion left the aft corridors open to space."

"We can get across," Andie repeated determinedly. She was bouncing lightly up and down on her toes as though impatient to get started.

"We'll have better luck going back to the last corridor and cutting across to starboard," Reed suggested, pointing over his shoulder toward the front of the ship.

"I thought you said there was a frog nursery there?" Travis argued.

"Maybe we can climb to another deck and have more luck," Trip suggested.

"Both E and C deck were overrun by frogs," Reed told him. "This corridor is our best hope."

"Maybe the frogs have dispersed by now," Travis pointed out. "I can't hear them anymore."

"Just because we can't see them running around doesn't mean that they're gone," Reed retorted. "They seem to have a knack for staying alive." _Like someone else he could think of_, he thought.

"Surely they can't stay alive without anything to eat?" Travis argued.

"How long do you think they can stay alive without food? What do you think, Doc?" Trip turned to look at the physician and found nothing but an empty space.

"Son of a bitch!" Malcolm cursed sharply. He didn't call out for her; just picked up his feet and moved down the hall where he'd last seen her. When threatened, she usually opted for the flight defense; only when directly challenged would she select the fight reflex. She was definitely moving now.

Fear propelled her through the cluttered corridors as lightly-footed as a gazelle. It was possible the muted lighting inspired her to move quicker than she would normally. She darted around a corner, and behind her Malcolm dodged a damaged panel door awkwardly. Travis and Trip scrambled to keep up behind him. There wasn't another T-junction down here, and the barricade that had been created left no other paths available. Malcolm hated to wonder where she might be headed. When he finally caught up with her, she was prying the last latch off a minor access tube.

"Don't!" Trip panted from behind. "It'll depressurize!" The weight of his EV pack was holding him back from a full sprint.

Andie didn't listen; just pulled the hatch open.

Nothing happened. There was both pressure and oxygen inside.

"We can get across," she panted insistently.

"What the hell?" Trip stepped forward to check the narrow tube. "This runs right underneath the section that got blown off by the plasma release. It should be wide open to space right now."

"Um," Andie hummed uncomfortably. Her chin dropped to her chest and she looked like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Three pairs of eyes swung around to look at her.

"I was conducting an experiment?" she offered hesitantly.

"You were _what_?" Tucker shrieked.

"Wait! I misspoke!" She held up a hand. "I was _preparing_ to conduct an experiment. The schematics are sitting on Archer's desk. He was supposed to read them over and give me a go-ahead, but he was taking a _really_ long time. I thought it wouldn't hurt to get a head start and then we ran into the _Xhardin_, and...Well, then, you know..._Boom_," she finished with a little hand flare supposed to signify an explosion.

"What kind of experiment?" Reed wanted to know.

"UESPA's been fooling around with the chemical composition of transparent aluminum, hoping to create something lightweight with the strength and durability of duranium."

"Why?" Trip demanded.

"So we could fly around in a big, glass box," Andie stated as though it should be obvious. "Imagine the view from all angles!"

"And you're testing this on my ship?" Tucker demanded.

"No, I was _preparing_ to test it," she corrected him. "I was lining the interior maintenance tube with thin sheets. Once Archer gave the go-ahead, we would seal off the surrounding corridors and depressurize the airlock doors to see how the material stands up to the stress." She got another look at Tucker's darkening frown. "Under controlled circumstances, of course," she added. "We should be able to make it to Sickbay from here. I'll go first." She dove eagerly for the opening.

"No," Malcolm decreed, planting a hand on her shoulder to prevent her departure. "I'll go."

"It's an experimental substance," she argued. "There's no telling if it'll hold extra weight, and I'm the lightest and..."

"No!" The protest came from more than one voice, but it was Malcolm who continued. "In the event of a disaster we'll need a doctor more than we'll need a security officer, so I'll go first and determine the viability of the..."

"No!" Andie's voice rose alone. "I think we'll need a security officer pretty damn quick," she added mulishly, gesturing over her shoulder at corridors that continued to remain frog-free, even if the sounds around them were increasing.

"Guys, whatever you do, you'd better make up your minds," Travis cautioned, checking his data scanner and glancing back into the darkness. The hysterical laughing call of the space frogs was becoming more pronounced.

That was all the impetus the doctor needed. "I'm going!" Andie said, stepping forward.

"Don't make me shoot you with a phase pistol, Doctor," Malcolm threatened. "You're easier to handle when you're unconscious!" He was beginning to recognize that her manic displays were covers for her unease, and guessed that threatening her was the best way to get her to think of something other than her fear.

"You don't even have one!" she pointed out belligerently, annoyed that he would boss her around.

Trip landed a hand squarely on her shoulder to prevent her from challenging Reed further. "As the ranking officer, I'm telling you that Malcolm is going to check out your unauthorized experiments. There is no further discussion." He nodded his chin at Reed to send the man on his way. Inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief. Those two were back to the more familiar habit of arguing and it was less unnerving that way. He ignored Andie's frustrated mutter of "rank this" she uttered under her breath as he watched Reed shimmy up into the tube.

"There you are leaving me again!" She threw the accusation at him in a last ditch effort, but he barely hesitated before climbing inside.

Space was at a premium in there. The walls were much closer than he thought they would be. Malcolm switched on the flash light he'd acquired and scooted through the narrow tube on his belly. About six meters into the hole, the substance under his hands changed from the familiar gray duranium to a transparent substance; behind it he could see the ragged edges of the destroyed hull. Cautiously he flattened a palm against it; it was cold to the touch, but it seemed steady enough. He placed some of his weight on his palms and pulled his body forward. There were no seams to snag his clothing between sheets of transparent duranium. Pausing he waited for tell-tale creaks or groans from the material, and was relieved that there were none. He pulled a little further out. Whatever this stuff was, it would hold his weight.

Using his forearms he pulled a little further along the tunnel. For a few meters there was nothing of the original hull left. His entire body was lying on the experimental substance. Pausing for breath, he turned his head to the right.

Malcolm had a close, personal view of the starlight outside the ship. He was looking directly down at the nodule of the ship where the power transfer conduits began their rise to the nacelles. This was no small porthole to gaze out of; he was freefalling without the falling part. He was floating without an EV suit. For just a second he could imagine that he was part of the star field before him before the unfettered feeling of vertigo made his stomach roll over. He focused his eyes on his arms in front of him and persisted in thinking only about the task at hand, and not what the likely outcome would be if this substance chose to disperse at this exact moment.

Without delay he finished wiggling along as quickly as he could until he felt the more familiar maintenance tube material under his body. Behind him he could hear noises. The others were not waiting for him, which was good; he couldn't have turned back to offer them information anyway. Obviously they decided that no news was good news, and they were setting out; no doubt the doctor was going first this time.

A vent appeared in the floor of his tube. Unlike the others he'd passed, this one was not sealed with a clear substance. It maintained its traditional mesh guard. Looking down, Reed saw leafy shapes vaguely outlined by dim blue lights. He was peering into the doctor's greenhouse project. The clear domes covering the delicate seedlings were made of a now familiar substance; it looked like transparent duranium could be used to secure plant life as well as line the hull of a ship.

"Don't!" a voice gasped behind him. "Keep moving forward!" Andie panted. She gripped his ankle and pushed weakly to encourage him to move.

"The ceiling of Sickbay is very high," Malcolm whispered, as though the slightest noise would bring the untested walls crashing around him. "We'd all break our legs jumping down! We should drop down here to prevent injuries!"

Andie grunted and fidgeted until she produced a data scanner. Malcolm had to peer under his armpit to see the display. Once he did, he exhaled resentfully as he recognized her concerns. The material in the greenhouse was highly delicious and a large number of space frogs had eaten themselves into a coma down there. Jumping down would be a bad idea.

With another deep breath he scuttled further along the tube until he found a slightly larger ventilation screen. There seemed to be slightly more room to maneuver here too. He could lift his body up on his forearms and light peeked through the grid. He could hear voices down there; both were unintelligible but seemed pitched with tension.

"I need to get in front of you," Andie whispered.

"Sure I'll just pull over and let you pass," Malcolm snorted in the close quarters.

"Or you could lean on one side," she pointed out irritably.

By extending one hand up over his head Malcolm could roll onto his side. Andie did the same and wiggled her way up to meet him face to face, gyrating against the length of his body. Malcolm tried to think innocuous thoughts about phase canon assemblies. She slid past him and he exhaled slowly in relief. _It had been too long since he'd been in the company of a woman_, he thought, ignoring the fact that he was spending more time than ever before in the company of one particular woman.

Andie scrambled ahead of him and Reed craned his head to have a look. The ceiling in Sickbay arched up into a dome, with conduits and cables sheltered by trusses, leading to the contingency atmospheric and power supply units. The large system housed above the medical ward was designed to maintain a sterile air and power supply to those housed in isolation. Andie was crouched upright in the pocket above this machine intended for maintenance workers to make repairs or run diagnostics on the housing, and she was digging through a small crate. She smiled grimly when she withdrew a coil of rope with knots evenly positioned along its length.

She applied a hefty amount of adhesive substance to one end of the rope, pressing it against the bottom of the tube they were in, and then dropped the rest down the hole, after removing the grid securing the vent opening. "I know you like to go first," she waved a hand at the rope ladder.

"I think I'll give the glue some time to dry," he retorted.

"Suit your self," she shrugged. Scooting forward, she dropped her legs into open space and dropped through the aperture, clinging to the rope. Malcolm held his breath wile she climbed nimbly down. Miraculously the damp glue had hardened sufficiently to bear her weight.

Malcolm shifted his weight to the other side of the opening and waited for Commander Tucker and Ensign Mayweather to pull forward. They had both removed their EV packs and left their helmets behind; it was only the size of their bodies hindering their progress. He made sure they were down the hole before sliding down after them. Just to be safe, he replaced the vent just in case the space frogs found a way into that particular maintenance tunnel.

* * *

_Enterprise_

_Sickbay_

Nobody was more surprised by the unexpected visitors than Sergeant Chang and Corporal Romero. Chang was administering first aid to Captain Archer who lay on a bio-bed, while Romero kept an eye on the main double doors into the room. They had shuffled the captain down the access tube as quickly as they could manage, and even then they had stayed just a few lengths ahead of the ravening hordes. The extra doors that Andie had installed had helped prevent the space frogs from following them inside, but they worried how their crewmen would be able to maneuver through the corridor.

Right up until the moment the doctor had dropped down out of the sky.

"Don't shoot! I come in pieces!" Andie held up her hands as Romero whirled around, ready to attack.

"Doc!" Chang called out. "He's hurt!" His head nodded at the body under his hands, still administering CPR.

Andie nodded. She crossed the room and pulled open a drawer. The first thing she removed was the matching electro-mag pulse pistol with the genetic grip and she immediately wrapped the holster securely around her waist. Now armed, she pulled open other cupboards and began removing a host of supplies, including a fresh medical scanner, a battery-operated lantern and a portable space heater.

By the time Reed's feet hit the floor she was leaning over the man on the bio-bed and barking out orders. "Travis, check that second cupboard on the left. There's a large power cell. Tucker, there should be a tool kit in that second drawer on the right. Chang, in the third cupboard from the door, bring me two surgical trays labeled number seven and one number nine." She knew the contents of this room better than the back of her hand.

"Oh, God," Malcolm murmured. "How bad is it?"

"He acquired debris," Andie answered shortly. She took one look at the pasty marine in the center of the room and sent him to the other side in search of hypo-sprays. Romero was happy to stay far away from the blood and he scrambled to fulfill his duty, filling the instruments with a variety of different colored liquids as directed by the doc.

Andie accepted the hypos from the marine then gestured at Reed to apply pressure to the bloody abdomen of the captain while she stepped behind a curtain. She reappeared some minutes later wearing a silver surgical gown and cap. She wrapped another one around Malcolm and tossed another set to Sergeant Chang, who was pressed into service squeezing an oxygen bag over the mouth and nose of the patient with one hand, and holding a flashlight over Andie's head with the other.

"What do you want from me?" Tucker asked. His face too pale in the dark and he looked like a specter.

"I need you to isolate this one bio-bed from the computer and put its readings on that display over head," she told him. "Use the power cell. I can mend what I can see, but I need to know what other damage was done and the display can offer critical information."

"These beds take up a hell of a lot of power," Trip told her. "You won't get more'n a few minnits of data off this one power cell."

"I know," she said calmly, pulling the mask over her nose and holding a scalpel in her hands. "That's all I need."

"What about me?" Travis broke in quietly.

"You've done some engineering. Help Tucker," Andie directed. "Reed and Chang, you just got drafted as my nurses. Can you handle that?"

They nodded solemnly.

Romero's voice drifted over from the center of the room. "What do I do?"

"Keep your eyes on that door," Reed directed immediately.

"Fill the big beaker with water from the big jug under that main desk. Place it over a flame burner at that other station," Andie called out over her shoulder, altering the directives.

"You want him to boil water?" Reed whispered. That seemed like such a quaint and outdated practice.

"I really do," she affirmed. "Ready?" Her two nurses gulped quietly before nodding. Andie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened her eyes and lowered her small silver blade toward the captain's bare skin.

Emergency surgery was nothing to sneeze at. Malcolm had never had a bird's eye view before, but now he stood right next to the surgeon. Most surgeries these days were conducted with the latest technology; laser scalpels, diagnostic beds, full biological monitors; all of which caused a minimum of injury and scarring to the patient. Reed never thought he'd look at the inside of the human body, cut open with a short knife while a doctor fiddled around with the internal organs, but Andie maneuvered her way through them with ease, working solely on her own memory of the human body. How she could hold a person's life in her hands and not flinch at the enormity of the weight that burden carried amazed him. It was possible that there were people who thought the same thing of his duty; he was sometimes called upon to extinguish life and he tried not to flinch at the burden. Malcolm swallowed hard. This was not the time to be contemplating death.

Periodically he was called upon to hand her another tool from one of the surgical trays or to take readings from a nearby medical scanner and show it to her. A couple of times Andie asked him to stick his hand inside the body of a living person and hold stuff or move stuff; stuff that should not be touched by humans hands because it should reside inside a person's body rather than opened up for display. Malcolm tried to distract himself by remembering the name of every boat his father had served on, in order to keep his mind occupied with something other than his current predicament.

It seemed to last for hours. From time to time she called out orders in an even tone to other persons in the room. When Romero told her the water was boiling, she directed him to drop six spoonfuls of a dark brown powder into it. He was relieved to have a task to complete; it kept his mind off of the blood that might make him ill. Sometimes she would remind Chang to keep the oxygen even. Andie called for a basin, dropping in several objects that looked like half a tree stump from Malcolm's perspective, but he might be exaggerating the size of the slivers.

Tucker kept his head below the table on the other side, concentrating entirely on the engineering components of the machine he was repairing and Mayweather was happy to keep his head down as well. "Are you ready, Doc?" he called out at last.

Andie stared at the table in front of her. Her fingers twitched slightly. "Ready," she told him. Her voice was starting to slur and for the first time, Malcolm looked up at the doctor. The only lights were the small lights that lit up the bed and the work station, leaving every face in ghoulish outline against the darkness beyond their little world.

Above the bed, the monitor fizzled slowly to life. The shape of a body appeared and data began streaming up the sides of the image. Andie's head seemed slow to turn. Her face glistened with the sheen of perspiration in the chilly room. Her eyes seemed unwilling to focus and it seemed to take a long time to absorb the information from the monitor. Behind the paper mask on her face, Andie carefully drew in air and let it out in breaths too consistently even to be normal. The screen flickered and went dark again.

"Thank you, Mister Tucker," she murmured. Her fingers curled into a quick fist before her hands went back to work, sealing the breaches in the body with a needle and thread. Reed was sure that was a habit designed to stop the trembling in her fingers, and he was growing more certain that her shakes had nothing to do with the cold, the worst of which was being kept at bay by her space heater.

While her attention was diverted, Malcolm slipped one hand around the medical scanner and turned the machine on the woman. He wasn't a doctor, but the readings he interpreted were not good. Her respiration was labored and slowing. Her temperature was rising while her circulation was slowing.

"Doctor," he whispered.

Her eyes flicked his direction, noting the scanner in his hand. "Not now, Reed," she objected, squinting her eyes to make certain she sealed the last stitch on the inside of the captain's body.

Reed tried again. "Doctor," he persisted. _Jesus, she knew! She knew she was in trouble!_

"Not now, Colm," she growled, using his pirate's name as a warning as she finished closing the final interior stitches before glancing over at Chang. "You have any medical training?"

"All marines have medical training," Chang answered. "Plus, my wife is a nurse."

"You can sew this wound closed?" She asked, gesturing at the external opening that had to be sealed.

Chang's eyes widened. "Um, yeah, but..."

"Good," she nodded as her eyes fluttered. "Reed, you're gonna have to catch..."

Reed dropped his scanner and had an arm wrapped around the doctor before she pitched head first into the floor. His foot slipped in something slick on the ground and he nearly dropped them both. He managed to prop the doctor up on the next bio-bed before Chang swung the flash light around to illuminate the puddle of blood beneath the weakened woman. It hadn't come from Archer; there was a distinct red line leading from her boots to her waist.

"Damnit, Andie!" Reed hissed, annoyed that she would hide her wound from him. If she was back to keeping secrets from him, it really was a homecoming.

"Which one of you sweet young cupcakes wants to play doctor with me?" she purred. The pale smirk in her ashen face gave lie to her teasing words. Her hand reached out to one of a pair of hypo-sprays that had been left here by Romero at her request. She jabbed one end into her neck and pressed the button. "That's better," she sighed.

"What the hell's goin' on?" Tucker rose from his position at the head of the bio-bed and glared over the body of the captain.

"The doctor took a hit," Reed supplied. "It was that last attack on Sadiré, wasn't it? You came in too close and she gutted you, didn't she?"

"Not gutted, just poked," Andie protested. "But I think she sheared off the edge of her knife when I gave her the atomic wedgie." She drew in a deep breath. "You're going to have to get it out."

"I'm not a doctor," Reed objected.

Andie looked at him solemnly for a long moment. "Then I'll need some assistance," she changed her orders. Moving slowly she pushed the other surgical tray aside and pulled her legs up onto the bed.

"You can't mean to perform surgery on yourself?" Tucker shouted, moving around the bed.

"I've done it before," she muttered darkly. "It's a piece of cake, except I can't bend over far enough to see the problem. I'll need some extra eyes. Chang, there are two hypos over there on Archer's tray. Give him about half from each. Cover the wound with sterile gauze and tape it in place. Make sure he's kept warm." She licked her lips. "Reed, I'll need you to undress me."

Malcolm moved the tray to the wheeled table beside the bed. He reached into Andie's boot and pulled out her _d'k tahg, _and used it to slice cleanly through the leather vest she wore and the linen shirt and even the soiled bandage she had hastily secured around her middle, probably when she took some privacy to don her surgical gown. He was quick, but he didn't even scratch the skin.

Andie looked down and snickered. "Impressive! That's not the first time you've done that, is it?" The laughter caused her to wince and she groaned. "Pull the curtain. This isn't a nudie bar."

Trip hovered just outside the flimsy material. "What do you want me to do?"

"Go get me a cup of coffee!" Andie barked petulantly.

"That's what that smell is?" Travis murmured. "I thought it was familiar."

"You had me making _coffee_?" Romero sounded peeved now that the gory bits were hidden from his view.

"Yes!" Andie snapped, "Now make yourself useful and go find me a doughnut!" The act of annoying someone else made her breathing heavier.

Malcolm pushed her back down onto the pillows he'd been propping under her back until she was sitting more or less upright. "Lay still, Doctor." Reed reprimanded her softly. "You're going to have to walk me through this." It was entirely possible that he was going to throw up and he didn't want to do it until after he was finished.

"It's a piece of cake, Reed," she told him. "Don't worry about scars. I know a guy."

"You know..._a guy_?" Malcolm repeated incredulously.

"He's a dermal regenerationist. He's a magician with skin, covered some other scars. Don't worry about mistakes. Just dig out the blade fragment and stitch me up."

"Shouldn't you be asleep for this?" he queried nervously.

Andie pressed another hypo-spray against her neck with a loud hiss. "Nope! Local anesthetic; can't feel a thing." She reached out and took his hand. "I am going to fall asleep though, so we need to get started."

"I've never...I don't..." Malcolm stammered. Chang entered the curtain with fresh gloves for both Malcolm and himself. Reed wasn't sure he wanted the company. "I'm not a doctor."

Her wide eyes met his as her pale hand squeezed his hard. "I wouldn't have asked anyone else to do this," she told him.

Reed pressed his lips together and nodded. "Where do I begin?" He began steeling himself for the task ahead, no matter how distasteful it might be. He wondered how he kept getting into these situations that made him so uncomfortable when she was around.

"You need to cut from here to here," she pointed.

It was worse than he imagined.

* * *

_Starship Enterprise_

_Sickbay_

Malcolm stood at the double doors looking out into the hall. A few lingering emergency lights illuminated the deserted corridor beyond. He rubbed his neck with one hand and tried to stop the shaking inside his skin. He'd cut her open. He'd placed his hands inside. He'd pulled a fragment out of her rib and sewn her together again. All the while he was committing this travesty upon her body, she was calm and reassuring and soft. Her pupils were wide and dark and her breathing grew heavier. She passed out near the end and for just a moment he'd been terrified that he'd ripped open some artery and she'd died because of him. He made Chang show him the scanner to make sure. He applied a bandage to the sutured wound and moved away. None of his inner turmoil showed; he was stoic to the end.

Trip had offered him a beaker of black coffee when he exited the curtained area. Reed shook his head and moved away from the others. He just needed a moment to regain his equilibrium. Behind him he heard Chang tell the others about the fight in the Great Hall and how Archer had taken the brunt of the initial blast to save him, but that the transporter had pulled them out in the nick of time, but for the debris that had lodged in Archer's body. In return, Travis had recounted the escape pod route with muted enthusiasm.

Now they were trapped on this ship and surrounded by carnivores. The lives of two crewmen hung in the balance because main power was offline. They couldn't get to main engineering because of the carnivores. They couldn't call for reinforcements. They had just redesigned the meaning of FUBAR.

A shadow appeared at his shoulder. Trip held out a beaker of coffee and waited until Reed took it. The lieutenant sipped it automatically, although he wasn't sure he could get anything past the knot in his throat or stomach. In spite of his worries, the hot liquid slid down and warmed him.

"We've got oxygen recirculating on a self-sustaining frequency," Trip spoke quietly. "We have a heater and a bunch of spare batteries. There's a crate of rations in the back and the biggest bag of coffee beans you've ever seen. There's a stack of blankets and a couple of EV suits prepped and ready to go." Trip paused and swallowed a gulp of coffee to steady his nerves. "I never thought I'd meet anyone more paranoid than you, but she just elevated the concept to brand new heights."

"She was never going to leave," Malcolm murmured softly. "If I hadn't gotten pinned down with those boys, she never would have left the ship. We would have landed on that planet and she'd just stay here until she ran out..." he paused and gathered himself together. "She's crazy."

"There's a fine line between genius and crazy," Trip pointed out. He took another breath. "Look, she had enough supplies to last her a couple of weeks, maybe, but with all of us here, we're going to run out of food and water pretty quick. I need to get to Main Engineering and see what kind of damage we're talking about. We're going to need power to get everybody back on board."

"What's your plan?" Malcolm grunted. The idea of action made the tightness in his chest ease.

"If we had a shuttle pod, we won't have to worry about getting on and off that planet," Trip stated. "We need to see if we can get the shuttle doors open."

"How do you expect to get out of this room?" Reed queried quietly.

"I was hoping you'd have an idea." Trip nodded with his chin. "You up for a stroll?"

_Stay here and watch every breath she takes or go off on some foolhardy mission where he will mostly likely get to shoot something: It was a real brain teaser_, he thought dryly.

A brief investigation of the medical ward offered up extra data pads and flash lights, and under an emergency cot in the back of the room they found a case of phase pistols, kicked aside when the main crew had scrambled out the doors. Reed donned an EV suit from the doctor's stash, and everybody armed themselves. Mayweather and Romero offered to check out the Shuttle Bay, and shimmied back up the rope to the access tunnel overhead, hoping to find another tube to lead them there. Reed joined Tucker in the CMO's office, prying the large screen off the wall where Trip and Reed had once spied on Phlox and Andie watching movies. Hopefully the other end of the maintenance tube would be empty enough that they could make their way to Main Engineering. Chang volunteered to stay behind and keep an eye on the sleeping crew.

Malcolm took one last look at her slender form before he departed. It didn't seem fair that he was leaving again after he had so foolishly promised to stay by her side, but there was no help for it. The best way he could help her was to break his promise and hope that the Sergeant could protect her while he was gone.

* * *

_Starship Enterprise_

_Near Engineering_

"She looks worse'n she is."

Malcolm nodded absently and kept his eyes moving through the darkness. He'd seen her torn up and there was nothing anyone could say to make that better.

"You feelin' all right?" Trip looked at his friend with concern. "Don't answer that. I know what you're gonna say." He waved away the silence and sealed the utility hatch.

It took a long time for the words to come out. "I'm supposed to be protecting the ship. I guess I haven't been doing a very good job."

"None of this is your fault," Trip was quick to remind him.

Again there was a long silence but after all this time, Tucker could almost hear the words. _She was_.

"All we've got to do is patch her up and she'll be good as new," he reminded his morose friend.

Malcolm looked liked he'd frozen in place. Tucker thought he must not have been very subtle. He started to speak, but the lieutenant raised a hand for silence.

"Do you hear that?" He set off at a prowl, and Tucker had no choice but to follow.

* * *

_Starship Enterprise_

_Sickbay_

Sergeant Chang returned from his perusal of the CMO's office to find an empty bio-bed. He reaffirmed his grip on his weapon, and called out. "Doc?"

She answered right away. "I'm here. Give me a few minutes." Her voice came from behind a privacy curtain, followed by the splash of water. Beneath the curtain he could see her bare legs. Obviously she was cleaning up.

"Okay, Doc. Just call out every once in a while," Chang responded. He tried not to look too hard in her direction while she finished her sponge bath.

Every movement took a little longer than usual because her abdomen hurt like hell. She took a peek at her wound before applying a fresh bandage; Reed had closed with neat, even stitches. There may not even be a scar to regenerate away, she noted with surprise. She finished washing away the dirt and grime that covered her, applying medicines to the myriad of cuts and bruises.

Once she was clean, she pulled on the gold layer of the EV suit to help keep her warm. Over the top she added a clean pair of fleece pants and a matching top. Clean socks and thin surgical shoes were a blessing for her feet, which were tired of her utilitarian boots. She finished by plaiting her hair into two braids and throwing her dirty clothes into a bio-hazard bin.

With a fresh medical scanner in hand, she moved toward the captain and took note of his readings.

"How is he?" Chang asked, moving closer.

"Same," she answered. "Fever's rising; that's to be expected."

"A barrel blew apart and drove some splinters into his side before we were transported out," the sergeant told her.

"You all right?" she asked, gently removing the bandage and peeking underneath.

"I'm fine, Doc," Chang waved away her concern. "How are you?"

"I'm a tough old broad," she joked weakly. "Where's everyone?"

"Taking stock of our surroundings," he answered. "You weren't out long."

"Can't lie around," She snorted. "Got work to do. Any coffee left?"

Chang went to pour a fresh beaker for her, and just then the Ensign and the Corporal returned.

* * *

_Starship Enterprise_

_Sickbay_

Malcolm and Trip raced through the corridor as though the hounds of hell were after them. Or perhaps as though a troop of hungry carnivorous space frogs were hopping and climbing after them. It was the engineer who fired wildly fluctuating shots over their shoulders to deter their pursuers while the tactical officer kept one arm pressed tightly against the bundle at his side.

"Incoming!" Reed shouted, hoping to be heard in the medical ward. Sickbay was designed like a fortress; it was unlikely they would be heard, but they wouldn't have a moment to spare to open the doors for themselves. "Open the bloody door!"

Trip stumbled as he turned around, knocking into Reed. The tactical officer didn't lift his arm to deflect the impact of his body against the wall; just twisted his body to take the blow and struggled to keep upright and keep moving.

"Down!" A voice hollered over the din of the crazy laughter that followed them. Trip and Malcolm hunkered over as bolts of light flew over their heads. They didn't slow down; just kept running.

"Hold onto your butts!" another cry cut through, and Malcolm might have groaned at the female tone if he had any breath left. Something flew over their heads and then that something exploded behind them. The explosive impact drove them forward through the double doors, where their companions slid apart to offer them sanctuary. A hand hit the big red button and the outer pair of doors slid shut with a thump, followed by several thumps as some of the space frogs were too close behind to stop their forward momentum and crashed against the panels. The doors held though; and the skittering, giggling crowds were left outside.

"What the hell was that?" Trip panted.

"Science is fun," Andie beamed. "You get to blow shit up now and again." She hit the button that would allow them access to Sickbay.

"Check your science books," Reed panted, trying to stand upright around the stitch in his side. "I don't think you're supposed to blow the pants off your comrades." She looked clean and fresh and not at all like she'd undergone major surgery a few hours ago.

"Depends on whether or not the comrades are such a bunch of troublemakers that they've earned the moniker of the Disaster Twins without my help," she groused. "Is it always like this with you two?"

"Pretty much," Chang murmured in her ear, causing Mayweather to chuckle and Trip's scowl to deepen.

"The Doc was just telling us about this one time, at the one bar, she totally..."

"Nuh uh!" Andie held up a finger. "They don't need to know that!"

"You seem awfully chipper," Malcolm noted. Mayweather and Romero looked liked they'd been having a pleasant time conversing with her. She was probably working hard to keep up their spirits, the same way she sang all day to alleviate the concerns of the alien villagers. "Shouldn't you be sleeping or something?"

"You know what they say; there's no rest for the wicked," she responded lightly.

"Gee, and after we went to all that trouble to bring you something special!" Trip carped.

"Hordes of ravenous beasts and you two stopped at the gift shop?" she snorted.

"Not exactly," Reed exhaled deeply. He lifted his arm from his side and opened up the bundle made from a discarded silver jacket. Underneath the quilted material was something orange and skinny and covered with muck. Wide yellow eyes blinked in the dim light.

Andie gasped silently. "Napoleon!" she breathed, ashamed of the unbidden tears that collected in the corner of her eyes upon the mere sight of her feline. As soon as she touched him, the cat started purring a rusty, uneven noise. She pried the cat away from Malcolm's side and buried her face in his clumped fur, turning her back on the witnesses to her weakness and bringing him to the nearest exam table.

"That damned cat was kickin' ass and takin' names in the junction outside of Engineering!" Trip stated in awe. "Took on a whole troop all by himself and he was keeping 'em at bay, too!"

There were three deep scratches along one side; one of the frogs had gotten close. He was too skinny which spoke of the scarcity of food in recent days. But aside from some dehydration he was in pretty good shape. Andie cleaned him up with soap and water, bandaged his wounds and applied a hypo-spray that interrupted his log-sawing purr. "You clever boy," she whispered against his fur as she picked him up and cradled him. Raising her eyes, she looked at Reed. "What about...?" She couldn't even speak the name of the other pet without leaking at the eyes.

Reed just shook his head. "No sign of her," he stated gently. He hated being the one who made her smile fall down like that. She actually buried her face in cat fur. "Look, the way Napoleon was doing battle with the space frogs gave me an idea," Reed suggested to the room at large.

"You are not using my cat as bait!" Andie burst out.

"First of all," Reed turned back to her, "I have no intention of using him _as bait_."

"You're not using him at all!" She fumed; squeezing her feline closer until the cat weakly struggled.

Reed stopped arguing and counted to ten. His mother always said that would calm him down, but then his mother had never met Andie. "What if I use someone else's cats?" he asked archly.

"What if you use...?" Andie stopped in mid-sentence. She looked very hard at Reed, whose mouth twisted just slightly in the barest hint of a smile. A smile crept across her features and Reed's world brightened. It was as though she read his mind. "Oh, there are so many things wrong with that plan!"

"What plan?" Trip asked.

"We'll need Engineering online," Andie pointed out.

"We've got an engineer!" he beamed widely, pointing at Trip.

"An engineer for what?" Trip raised his voice.

"There's the problem of removal," Andie noted.

"All we need are a few tracking devices," he noted easily.

"I have an assortment of collars in my room," Andie offered, ignoring the resulting wide-eyed jaw-drop from Mayweather and Romero.

"Collars for what?" Romero asked breathlessly.

"You dirty girl!" Mayweather snorted.

"The trackers in them can be modified," she went on, ignoring the juvenile humor.

"Trackers?" Trip interjected. "For what? _What_ is the plan?" he shouted.

A matched pair of wicked grins turned his way as Reed and Andie conspired together.

"Oh, God, there's two of them!" Chang breathed in dismay. "He's nuts, but she's _insane_!"

Trip met Chang's eyes before glancing back at the other two who were enthusiastically chattering about the plan and making a list of supplies. "This is going to be bad, isn't it?" he asked. "I think I liked it better when they weren't getting along."

"They're disposing of a few rodents," Chang pointed out, whispering in Trip's ear. "You should seem 'em defend a castle from an army of stone-cold killers. That's intense!"

"Would somebody please explain the frickin' plan already?" Trip growled to the room at large.

* * *

_Starship Enterprise_

_Transporter Alcove_

It seemed to take forever to collect the supplies they needed. Without a standardized chronometer, time was irrelevant. Nobody was certain what hour it was; only that caffeine and excitement were keeping their bodies at work. They had split up and utilized every maintenance tube, utility vent, and sneaking trick to collect the materials they needed. It hadn't been easy. Reed had been surprised that the doctor volunteered to remain in the medical ward, provided someone brought her the small case in the maintenance tube above their heads. He'd left Chang to guard her anyway, just to make sure she stayed put.

Trip knelt down under the translucent dome of transparent duranium and reset the transporter controls for the last time. He glanced over at Reed, crammed into the lightweight yet sturdy tent devised from sheets of material that had kept the vacuum of space outside of Sickbay. They'd returned to find this habitat waiting for them; easy to carry and strong enough to hold them. Miraculously, only a thin stream of glue was required to set these pieces together until the end of time. After cutting the pieces in the medical ward, it had only taken seconds to set up around the transporter console, keeping space frogs away from them while they worked.

Malcolm checked his weapon and nodded at Trip. After rechecking the coordinates for the millionth time, Trip locked onto a bio-signal and flicked on the machine. Power had been rerouted through everything that still had juice left in it, including some life support devices, but after the sixth time, it was getting a little dicey to rematerialize the entire object. This was going to be the last one. He boosted the power when the matter stream started to fail. He prayed under his breath as he took the last route left to pure energy until the form had taken its complete shape under the smoking lights.

Lifting the weapon, made of pieces of wood and rubber bands, Malcolm took careful aim with his homemade slingshot. It was really more of a crossbow than a slingshot, but he wasn't about to argue with Mayweather over the ensign's design. The young man insisted it was a weapon he had wielded often as a boy, and it never failed. Reed held his breath and waited for the thump of his heartbeat before releasing the projectile. The homing beacon-tipped dart planted itself deep in the shoulder of a creature that looked like a saber-toothed bulldog.

The lean _ktirya_ turned its head toward the sting in its shoulder and roared. It raised its head and sniffed the air, twitching it ears with interest. Its body lowered into a familiar crouch and the hungry beast, locked up for several days in the village arena without food, bared its teeth in anticipation of a free buffet of meat and slunk off into the darkness.

Malcolm and Trip remained where they were, just as still as they could manage to be.

"Um, Malcolm, we might have a little problem with this plan," Trip started when the coast was clear.

"I know," Malcolm sighed.

"I saw eight legs," Trip went on.

"I know," Malcolm rubbed the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

"There was more than one _ktirya_ there," Trip continued.

"Yes, I know that," Malcolm answered shortly. "One was an infant."

"That makes eight. We only had trackers for seven."

Malcolm rubbed his dirty face with his tired hands. "We'll just make Andie hunt down Orion when we're done, okay?"

Trip's disbelieving face rolled around on his shoulders to look at Reed with what he hoped was a complete lack of smile. "You _named_ them?" His mouth twitched.

"The doctor named them," Malcolm retorted.

Trip continued to bite the inside of his lip to contain the smirk. He failed. "What did the doctor name _you_?"

Malcolm was much better at hiding his smile. There wasn't a trace of humor in his face at all. "I've suggested the Flaming Rocket of Love. She's taken that under advisement."

Trip leaned against the transparent walls and had a good long laugh. Soon Malcolm joined in.

"I really hope next week is better than this one," Trip stated with fervent chuckle when the laugh wound down.

"Me, too," Reed agreed. "It would be difficult to be worse though."

All they had to do now was return to Sickbay and wait for the hungry creatures to get rid of their biggest problem. Then they had to return to the planet and get the others. Then they had to repair their ship and get the hell out of there. Piece of cake, right?


	24. Chapter 24

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 24

* * *

_Starship Enterprise_

_Sickbay_

With nothing else to do until the _ktiryas_ took care of their infestation, the crew reconvened in Sickbay. Dr. Andie was still on her feet, in a manner of speaking since she performed most of her duties while seated on a rolling stool, and she demanded that all five men submit to a physical exam. Since her injuries did not interfere with her mulishness and they meekly acquiesced. The MACOs were in pretty good health; Romero was slightly dehydrated and Chang had some minor burns from his first-hand knowledge of explosive powder. Tucker protested all the way to the exam table, but submitted to the recommended bone paste and flexible cast for his forearm with a sigh; although the painkiller might have had something to do with that. Reed and Mayweather were both cleared with some non-life threatening cuts and bruises.

Malcolm was uncomfortable as the doctor once again tended his abraded knuckles; he could distinctly remember the last time she did it, even if she gave no indication that she remembered anything at all. Once she finished, he demanded a peek at her stitches, claiming that since he put them in he was the medic on record and it was his duty. He wished he hadn't. At some point she had placed an osmotic eel over the sutures and the sight of the gray pulsing creature turned his stomach. Gritting his teeth against the reflex to gag, he nodded his affirmation that she was fine. Finally the imperious physician demanded that everyone grab an empty bed and get some shut-eye. Reed exerted his own stubborn streak to make sure she took her own advice before he succumbed to sleep.

There was no telling what it was that woke him, perhaps only memories of a blood-soaked nightmare, but Malcolm jerked awake, heaving slightly. Although his body ached and his eyes felt gritty, he lifted his head and looked around. Andie was the only one stirring. She sat with her back to him, at the main console in the middle of the room. Reed mentally counted bodies before lying back down, trying to get his eyes to focus. Everyone seemed to be in place, and still breathing, he noted with relief. The soft tapping of keys brought his attention back to the wounded woman, working with a full-sized data pad. He slid his legs out from under the thermal blanket and padded quietly across the room to stand behind her.

Andie sensed his movements and carefully opened a new page to hide the other data without turning around. The action triggered a suspicion in his mind that she was hiding something, but Malcolm pushed it aside. Of course she was hiding something; medical files were not for public viewing without the patient's permission. Still he tried not to look like he was looking for something, even though he actually was.

"What time is it?" he rasped, helping himself to the large beaker of coffee still brewing over a light blue flame nearby.

"Around dawn, I think," Andie answered quietly, looking confused. Time was not something she usually bothered with and the question seemed out of place.

Actually Malcolm thought she probably looked like he did when he was deep in a puzzle and someone interrupted his train of thought. "I thought Romero had this watch," he noted.

"I sent him to bed," she answered defensively; obviously she was waiting for him to pick a fight with her. "I figured he ought to be sharp before he headed out into carnivore infested hallways to search for predators."

"Shouldn't you be resting?" he inquired with amusement. By now he knew that although she may look like a slight bit of nothing, she was a powerhouse that never quit. That refusal to cave in to circumstances impressed him; it must be nice to be so certain about every movement without being concerned about making the wrong choices. Even if her choices led her to have a strange dagger in her abdomen, he remembered. He was tempted to tease her about her impetuousness but the image of her body splayed open while he fit his hands inside was too fresh in his mind. It was something that would stay with him. She could pretend she was unstoppable, but he knew firsthand how fragile she was. He just wondered if she was aware of her fragility.

Unaware of the dark ramblings of his mind, she forced a smile, unaware that Reed was beginning to correctly read the strain around the edge of her eyes that indicated it wasn't a true grin. "I'll sleep when I'm dead but not a second before," she joked.

Death had nearly been a possibility. In order to change the subject, Malcolm gestured with his chin at the man still wearing an oxygen mask. "How's the captain?"

"The same," she answered after a small pause. "I think I've stabilized his fever though. It's not dropping, but it's not climbing either." She reached for her coffee mug and Reed noticed something else.

"What's wrong with your hands?" he asked soberly.

"Nothing," she lied, dropping her intention to lift her mug and moving her hands out of sight.

He wasn't about to let her get away with that though; he caught her hands gently and pulled them into the dim light of the hand torch. He could feel them trembling. "What's wrong with you?" The tremble shook her body and her eyes looked a little glassy in the dim light.

"Nothing's wrong," she sighed, too tired to fight about it. "Too many painkillers on an empty stomach; that's all."

"You're hungry?" Reed raised an eyebrow. "Did you get a ration pack? When was the last time you ate?" The crate was nearby and he flicked an eye inside. It was nearly empty except for a lone tube of liver paste. He couldn't blame her for not eating that.

Andie blinked. "I wasn't hungry before," she waved at her mid-section, which was all the answer he needed. "As for a solid meal, when did Tucker come get me from the Hollow?"

"You've been fasting since you left camp?"

"I'd hardly call it fasting. I had those protein tablets," she retorted tartly. "They offer nutrients to keep me alive. I'm not starving. It's just that there's a difference between staying alive and having food in my stomach."

That was the true. Come to think of it he had a rumbling in his stomach. They had demolished all the rations she had stored away, and the thought of eating liver-flavored paste didn't sit well with him. "We should make an excursion to the Mess Hall to see what we can scrounge up."

"Should I wake Romero?" There was a bitter tone in her voice. She really hated being helpless.

Malcolm smirked. "After what I saw from you yesterday, I think you can manage. That is, if you want to go with me?"

The offer was unexpected and she studied him for a long moment to see if he was serious before nodding in agreement. She traded her surgical shoes for gravity boots and accepted his assistance in loading the EV pack onto her shoulders. She pressed a hypo into Archer's neck and fussed over Napoleon before she announced she was ready. They set out after waking Mayweather to take watch.

Their passage through the corridors was slow, partly due to the destruction and partly due to Andie's injuries. She wouldn't complain, but she couldn't possibly be comfortable. After climbing through the first vertical tube to get to C Deck, Reed stepped out on the landing to make a quick perusal of the nearby corridors and to give Andie a chance to catch her breath. He didn't call attention to her pallor. She would only deny her pain. He studied the hand scanner, making notes of the tracking device signatures as shown on the small screen. The animals seemed to be congregated near the rear of the ship. If Malcolm had to guess, he'd say the _ktiryas_ had cornered all the space frogs in one of the cargo bays. If they were all in one location, they'd be easier to retrieve later. He nodded to Andie and she rose from her knees to follow him up the next vertical shaft.

C Deck had taken a real pounding, since that's where the kitchen and most of the food storage facilities were located. He left her again to catch her breath while he checked out the nearby corridors for signs of attackers. When he returned she was missing. Tamping down his unease, he speculated on where she would be headed and followed her estimated path.

The Mess Hall was a real mess. Remnants of lunches were strewn around the room, mixed with the waste disposal container. The animals had torn the place apart in a feeding frenzy. The transparent doors that held delicacies had been forced off their hinges, the tables and chairs were overturned. This room had been hit harder than any other, due to the proximity of so many edibles. They had been extremely lucky not to lose any personnel while evacuating this place; the destruction had happened so quickly there had been little warning.

Andie was running a scanner over the debris left in the transparent food units. She had popped open the helmet on her EV suit and reached out with one gloved hand to remove the last intact morsel, a single chocolate chip cookie.

"_I wouldn't eat that if I were you,"_ Malcolm cautioned. He popped his helmet open too. "You don't know where that's been. It could be contaminated by frog fungus or fleas or..."

The doctor kept her eyes on him as she popped the cookie in her mouth and chewed with bliss. "Mmm, fungus," she hummed through a mouthful.

"That is so unsanitary," Reed reproached, swallowing his bile. It was easy to do since the sight of a delicious pastry had started his mouth watering. He considered asking for a bite of the same cookie, but the thought of frog fungus was enough to dissuade him. "Let's check out the kitchen."

The galley wasn't much better than the dining room. Chef would weep openly when he saw his copper pots dented and scratched. There was some good news; the kitchen staff had managed to secure the latches on the stasis units and the deep freezers. Most of the food was intact and the damage was minor, except to the main prep areas and the smaller stasis units that housed food meant to be used in a matter of days.

Following orders was hit or miss for the doctor, but she didn't object when Reed told her to clean off the steel worktable in the center of the room. He cringed when she swiped an arm over the debris and sent a clatter of materials tumbling to the floor; he listened carefully but nothing approached their position. It seemed the frogs were far away from their location, as well as the woodland predators. He glared at her silently while she ignored him to swipe the tabletop with a cleanser soaked cloth.

While she cleaned off the surface, Malcolm fired his pistol at the latch and entered the larger stasis unit. He picked items from the furthest point back and brought them to the table.

"What's that?" she inquired, her eyes lighting up.

"Canned ham, canned beef, a sealed block of government cheese, a loaf of bread, condiments," he exhaled as he dumped the pile onto the clean surface. "Here," he pushed several items toward her.

"I don't cook," Andie protested, holding up her hands and backing away.

"Yet you frequently boast of your prowess with knives," Malcolm pointed out, handing her a large _santoku_ blade.

Nodding agreeably she took the knife and began slicing through the frozen loaf of bread. Canned ham and cheese slices followed. Malcolm spread mayo and mustard on the slices and piled the sandwiches together. He laid the first one aside and began to prep the second. Once finished he went to place it beside the first one, but the first one was missing. Blue eyes flashed to the doctor. She was looking at her work, intent on the table before her and refused to raise her eyes. He thought he saw her jaw moving, but he said nothing. Malcolm set down the second sandwich and put together a third. When he went to place the third sandwich next to the second, he saw the plate was empty.

"We're never going to get this done if you keep eating them all," he announced in exasperation.

"What makes you think it's me?" She asked, still chewing. The words were hard to understand; she was hard pressed to wear the grin on her face and keep her mouth closed at the same time.

His only response was an accusing eyebrow arching high. He put together a fourth sandwich, and set it down on the plate next to his elbow with a faux glare at the doctor. It looked lonely all by itself. "You have a healthy appetite," he remarked. She didn't answer; just shrugged and kept slicing. This time it was canned beef.

The silence was companionable for a time. "I'm glad we have this time together," Malcolm stated awkwardly.

"So you can give me grief about how much I eat?" she teased.

"There's something I wanted to give to you." While she continued slicing the food, Reed pulled something from around his neck and laid it on the counter. It was a rusty iron key.

Andie looked at it for a long time without saying anything. Finally she raised her gaze to the man on the opposite side of the silver slab. "I've been looking for that."

"I pulled it from the tangle of Sadiré's skirts after your last maneuver." He slathered condiments on the bread. "You were already charging Herak." He had to give her credit; except for her stillness she showed no other outward signs of being caught at something. She might have made an excellent security operative.

Andie shuddered. "Next time _you_ handle the big guy, and _I'll _handle the little woman."

"I thought you should have it back. You did promise the King that you would retrieve it." He squirted mustard onto a bread slice. "You had it the whole time!"

It was better that it was out in the open like this, even if his censure was tying her stomach in knots. "Not the whole time," she muttered.

"I can understand why you steal; you lived too long with pirates and they've rubbed off on you. I can understand why you didn't mention it to Galen. He seems more willing to kill us than help us. But I don't know why you felt you had to keep it from me. I could have helped you."

"I didn't want to involve you."

"In case you don't remember, I was involved! I stood by your side the whole time!"

"Not the whole time," she pointed out with mild irritation.

Wrapping the sandwiches in kitchen paper, he continued talking in gentle tones. "You kept information from me that could have influenced our mission on the planet. Both our lives could have been endangered. We could have been executed by the king for this trinket. It's dangerous that you don't trust the people whose job it is to protect you. It's dangerous that you don't trust me." That might be too close to the heart of it, so he rested his hands on the table and leaned over to inform her. "You've been keeping information from me since you came on board. You rely too much on yourself. I used to do that. But we, the entire crew, are here to help you. You're not alone anymore."

Andie didn't look at him as she reached out and picked up the item. She slipped the item around her neck and tucked it into her EV suit and finished slicing meat and cheese, seeming perfectly happy to let the matter drop without discussing it further. What could she say to alleviate his concerns? She had brought the matter to the captain's attention and the captain seemed not to trust his security officer, a fact of which Reed seemed completely unaware. Malcolm had once worked as a mercenary; perhaps Archer knew more about that than Reed knew, even if she had not mentioned anything about it. Perhaps the captain's reasons were something more than she knew. Whatever the cause, she didn't feel comfortable being the one to broach the subject. That was a matter for another day.

Malcolm finally decided she wasn't going to say anything else and there didn't seem to be any further topics of conversation. Pushing her didn't do any good; he would have to find another less antagonistic way to reach her. Frustrated he made up a lightweight pack for Andie with the sandwiches and several cans of tuna. The second pack carried cans of fruit and beans, and several bottles of soda pop. Reed slung the heavier parcel over his shoulder and escorted her to the door. They moved in silence.

Back at Sickbay the food was met with great cheer, dispelling any feelings of resentment between the pair that may have lingered. Despite his irritation with her silence on matters that he deemed important, Malcolm made sure that Andie had a sandwich and a bottle of root beer before the young stomachs of Romero and Mayweather could demolish the pile.

"What happens now?" Chang asked carefully as they relaxed with satisfied appetites in the medical ward. "Do we return the _ktiryas_?"

"I'm not keen on returning the predators to a populated area," Reed protested immediately.

"Why don't we just lock 'em in a cargo bay until we decide we don't need 'em anymore," Tucker suggested. "We can't be sure we got all the space frogs until we do a detailed search, and that can't happen until main sensors get back online and that can't happen until we get Main Engineering shipshape..." He sighed as he contemplated all the work ahead of him.

"Make a list of the most pressing repair work. Mayweather and I can present it to Commander T'Pol," Reed directed. "We can take a shuttle pod now, I think."

"If you're going back, they could use a few more supplies," Andie advised hesitantly.

"You're going with us," Malcolm told her. "I'd like to keep you where I can keep an eye on you."

Andie looked like she had something to say about that, but instead she shrugged indolently. "Yeah, I look good, don't I?" she responded, to Tucker's amusement.

"We'll have to work fast; they'll be worried about us," Mayweather nodded. He liked having work to do. It always made the time pass faster. His enthusiasm was a welcome kick in the pants and the weary team got to work.

* * *

_Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Eight: Mid-morning_

Sergeant Mackenzie and Corporal Woods tumbled out of the undergrowth in a big hurry. "They're coming and they looked really pissed off!" Woods announced as Mac attempted to catch her breath.

"The good guys or the bad guys?" queried Lieutenant Truax with a sharp look at the commanding officer.

"Is there a difference?" Woods flung his hands out in frustration.

"Galen's forces battered down the gates of the Watchtower early this morning," Mac reported with a withering glance at her partner. "They spent a few hours inside the fortress then they started heading this way. There's no mistaking it. They're headed for us."

Commander T'Pol gave a signal with her hand and the crew sprang into action, gathering up rocks and sticks and anything else with which they might defend themselves. Truax and Mackenzie took up positions on top of an escape pod with their firearms held at the ready.

Not long after their arrival, the brushes around camp rustled. One by one the marines signaled with fingers and eyes indicating how many spies they saw hiding in the undergrowth. If they numbers were correct, they were totally surrounded. T'Pol tensed; there may be only one last shot at attempting a diplomatic solution. She held up one hand to stop them, and her people paused behind her.

"I am Commander T'Pol!" she called out to the forest. "Show yourself so we can talk like civilized persons!"

A dozen riders moved out of the forest. The beasts were too slender to be horses but too big to be goats. The men were all armed with swords and bows. They wore armor that gleamed in the unaccustomed sunlight. One man, thin and gray, moved ahead of the others. "I am King Galen and I demand to speak to the odd woman."

The Vulcan wasn't sure how to answer that. She might be considered an odd woman, but in all likelihood they were probably speaking about the doctor. The last report indicated that the physician was with these men. If they lost her, how could T'Pol know where she was? "I don't understand what you mean, Your Highness," she answered carefully.

"The Lady Andrea, my lord," whispered a man to Galen's right. Roland looked battered but was still upright.

"Where is the Lady Andrea?" Galen asked again, pursing his lips at the trouble it took to repeat himself. There had been some conflicting reports from the Watchtower that the woman in question had disappeared into thin air, but he thought those perceptions may be colored by the generally accepted idea that she was a witch who could turn them all into mudbugs. Other reports suggested she sprouted wings and flew away. Clearly the people were all suffering from some sort of dream state. There had been yet another rumor that the tea had been tainted.

"I do not know where...Lady Andrea is," T'Pol answered stiffly. She turned that title over in her mind. _Had Andrea been misrepresenting herself to the less advanced society?_

"She promised to bring me the key! She swore I would have it in my hand in the morning! It is morning and she is fled. I want my key and I want it now!" Galen's voice rose. Too many things had been outside of his control. He just had to regain his footing in the world, so to speak.

"Your Highness, if I could just..." T'Pol tried to make him see reason.

"Commander?" Hoshi interrupted quietly.

"...have a moment to confer..."

"_Commander!_" Sato whispered again.

"What is it, Ensign?" T'Pol broke off irritably.

Hoshi's eyes just rolled upward, following the path of her eyebrows. T'Pol rolled her head back on her neck and looked up in the too bright sky.

A familiar and most welcome sight was heading her way, throwing a faint shadow over everything that grew bigger as the object grew closer.

The Vulcan looked at the king. "One moment, Your Highness," she answered, holding up one finger to wait.

Galen didn't seem inclined to wait, except that everyone was looking up at the sky, and so he finally tilted his head up to see a big metal box drifting down out of the sky. Blue fire spewed from its rear undercarriage, but it wasn't in distress. As gently as a feather, it settled on the ground in the middle of the many oddly shaped houses. A door opened and a strangely hooded figure climbed out. The figure, dressed in a strange half-cloak, sauntered over to T'Pol's side and only then did a hand rise to throw back the hood.

"Did you miss me?" Andie asked with a wide smirk.

"You timing is...convenient, Doctor," T'Pol answered as she exhaled deeply.

"Not nearly convenient enough," Andie muttered. She leaned in closer to the pointy eared Vulcan and began whispering in a tone that couldn't be heard by anyone who didn't have the extraordinary audio sense of a Vulcan. That didn't stop Hoshi from choking on a gasp nearby and Andie cursed the excellent hearing of the foremost linguist on board. She caught Hoshi's eye and shook her head. Hoshi nodded in return, accepting the need for secrecy.

"Lady Andrea, I demand that you show His Majesty the respect that is due him. These whispers are childish and beneath you!" Captain Roland rose up in his stirrups to chastise the quiet pair.

"Yo, Ro!" Andie lifted her chin in greeting. Roland looked confused until he realized she was speaking to him. "How's Theia?"

The captain of the guard flushed. "Lady Theia fares well. She is under the care of the King, and she and her warden are looking after the Lady Berthelde."

The reference to Dagmar as warden amused Andie. Her mouth crooked as she turned back toward Galen. "I have the key, as promised. But I don't want to give it back to you right now."

"Traitor!" Galen's face turned red with the force of his ejection.

"I'm not a traitor," Andie refuted.

"Deceitful little witch!" He added.

"I am not _little_!" Andie shouted in return. "And the rest is debatable." She shrugged. "I know that you had a deal with Archer: If I returned the key, you would allow us to take our leave. But I look around and see that you have surrounded us with armed men who look very angry. If I hand the key to you now, what's to stop you from killing us all in spite of your promises? Perhaps _you_ are the deceitful little man," she challenged with an arch look.

"I am the King and I give you my word," Galen offered gallantly.

Andie raised her hand. "I've met enough self-proclaimed leaders on this world to make me suspicious of any offered words. They aren't worth the paper they are printed on. I would prefer a gesture."

"You would equate me with that treacherous bitch?" The king was incensed.

"Captain Archer saved your life and you left him for dead. The next time you saw him you had him beaten and imprisoned. I'd like a gesture of kindness from you," the doctor insisted.

"Kindness?" Roland was the one to speak.

"Your absence would be a kindness. Take your men and leave the forest. Do not return. If my men see that you will comply, I will meet you tomorrow morning and hand over the key."

"I could take it from you now and not worry about tomorrow," Galen narrowed his eyes. He raised his hand to signal his men. The air crackled with tension.

"Your luck hasn't been that good lately, Your Highness." Clipped British tones spoke from right behind Andie and she nearly jumped. "You wouldn't want to underestimate us." There was another noise too; the hum of technology. The black barrel of a phase rifle appeared over Andie's shoulder as Reed joined her. He'd made a quick stop at the armory before returning to the planet, and he hadn't wasted any time in handing out the reinforcements. MACO's could be seen now, standing in various places, holding weapons at points in the underbrush.

"Let me simplify this," Andie sniffed. She pulled the leather thong from around her neck and dangled the key in mid-air, brushing back her jacket and removing her sidearm. A flick of a finger and the machine whirled to life. She aimed the weapon at the key.

"I have heard tales of that weapon," Galen sneered. "It does not function!"

Turning the pistol, Andie fired a single shot at the ground in front of the _esther_ he rode. The dirt puffed up and the air smelled of ash. "Your information is out of date," she informed him coldly. "If you want your kingdom back in one piece, then get your men off my rock or I turn your key into dust!"

Roland leaned over and murmured in his Highness' ear. Galen waved it away like a fly buzzing in his ear but he frowned. "I would speak with your Captain Archer," he stated firmly.

"Archer's busy," Andie replied shortly. "I grow impatient."

"Perhaps your Majesty would like to assign a guard to keep watch over this key?" T'Pol suggested diplomatically.

"Oh, come on! You're kidding?" Andie protested. "I don't need a guard!"

"A guardian?" Galen answered thoughtfully. He didn't trust this woman. Women were weak.

"What's to stop his guardian from knocking me over the head and stealing the key from me?" Andie objected more strenuously.

"The key belongs to him," T'Pol pointed out.

"It's a little more complicated than that," Andie growled low.

In the end T'Pol made it clear that they didn't have time for this. Galen agreed to return on the outskirts of the woods until the appointed time. Roland was assigned to follow Andie everywhere she went. He was even offered a communicator so that he could speak with his king whenever he liked and the men turned the strange devices over in their hands with wonderment. Sergeant Chang was assigned to follow Roland and make certain that the alien did not knock the doctor over the head, as she claimed to fear. The royal contingent parted company and rode back down to their headquarters, after Galen sternly assured Andie that she had only until dawn to finish her work. She had little doubt that he was going to spend the next few hours replenishing his armed troops and crossed her eyes in annoyance.

Dark brown eyes bored holes in Andie's. "You've been busy," T'Pol remarked in a low voice.

"You have no idea," Andie agreed quietly. From under her tunic, she pulled the tapestry she had removed from the underground tunnel. It was damp and smelled of chemicals; in places could be seen the rusty color of dried blood that she could not wash out. "Would you take a look at this?" she asked Hoshi, handing the fabric to the linguist. "There's something funny about it. Can you find out what it is?"

"What am I looking for?" Hoshi's worry did not fade from her face, even the advent of rescue. They weren't out of the woods yet.

"Anything unusual," was the doctor's unhelpful reply. Andie accepted a second cold weather jacket from a crewman and dropped it around the shoulders of the Vulcan, who was grateful for the warmth. "Tucker sent a repair list and a request for man power." She handed over the data pad. "He remained on board the ship to begin the work."

"You _have_ been busy," T'Pol remarked again with her customary eyebrow lift.

"I like to make my own fun," Andie tilted her head sardonically.

T'Pol perused the repair list that Tucker had sent down. She was disappointed that he had not returned himself, but she could see that there was no logical reason for his appearance. There was no time to reflect on his absence, what with all the work to be done. She approved the list he had sent and informed the proper crewmen. Engineers were the first priority and maintenance workers were the second. As soon as life support was back online, the rest of the crew could begin their evacuation in earnest. Until then they settled for getting each escape pod and tent back into order.

The doctor and the Vulcan held a long and mostly hushed conversation outside the Medical Tent, although they tried their best to be circumspect about it. Their pow-wow was interrupted by Ensign Bowman, who drew Andie into a firm bear hug and professed his relief that she was safe. With the silent communications of eyebrows, Andie and T'Pol parted company and went about the rest of their work. The Vulcan took the next shuttle into space while Andie patted Henry on the back, and checked the burns on his hands. They were turning into calloused blisters, but she deemed that to be good news. She turned her attention to the others that had been wounded in her absence.

* * *

_Starship Enterprise_

_Day Eight: Late morning_

_D Deck: Near Main Engineering_

There were places on board that were less damaged than others, and Trip sighed with relief that one of the power transfer relays was in a section that held atmosphere and had been cleared of alien life. He settled in with a tool kit to get started on repairs, eternally grateful that he'd found a blue jumpsuit to wear; the EV suits were bulky enough to be hard to work in. Things seemed to be proceeding well until he heard a sound behind that he had first come to fear almost a week ago; the sound of sharp claws on the deck plating. The dim lighting was still creepy as hell, and he made a silent vow not to watch anymore of Travis' gory movie offerings, even as he grabbed hold of a plasma torch and hoped it would hold off whatever was coming.

He almost shrieked out loud when something brushed up against his outstretched hand, not in the direction of the noise, but positioned slightly behind him. Trip jumped and spun around, holding the plasma torch with deadly intent; only to come face to face with an angry little face that sent relief flooding through his body. Miss Josephine didn't look like she'd just spent a week evading predators, but she did look supremely miffed that her favorite human was brandishing weapons at her whiskers. She scowled and hunkered down.

"Josie, you scared the pants right offa me," Trip exhaled loudly. He put the torch down and knelt down to smooth her fur with a dirty hand. "Where you been, little girl? Was Leon taking care of you?"

The crooning was better. Josephine squeezed her eyes shut and purred loudly. Trip thought she was too thin, but didn't have time to make any further deductions; that sound of toenails on deck plating he'd heard was right behind him now. Spinning around again, he lost his balance and landed on his butt as a rotund little body rounded the corner at a lopsided run.

Orion skidded to a stop as he contemplated the new creatures in front of him. Jojo scowled and hissed at him. Orion wasn't afraid. The infant _ktirya_ pranced forward and put his three-toed paws on Tucker's leg and leaned in to sniff this new thing with curiosity. After failing to avoid his wet snuffling nose, Jo leaned in for a cautious sniff. Pretty soon she was butting her head affectionately against the spiny-toothed mouth and purring again.

"That's right," whispered a nervous engineer. "We're all friends here. Let's get acquainted. We should...Crap."

He hadn't heard the thick talons enter the corner space he occupied, but Orion's mommy was not pleased to find a human, one of those creatures that had almost hunted her species to extinction, fondling her offspring. She crouched into an attack position and growled low.

Jojo wasn't having any of that. Nobody talks like that to her human! The tiny gray feline struggled out of Tucker's grasp, puffed out her fur to its fullest extent and growled right back at the full-grown _ktirya_. Trip almost laughed at the other's expression. The large animal halted with one heavily taloned paw in the air. Bewilderment crossed the _ktirya_ features at the sight of the tiny challenger.

Noises in the corridor down which Orion had trundled brought a pair of marines into view. One of them lifted a strange weapon to his shoulder and the missile that it projected into the shoulder of the angry mommy made her sleepy. In seconds she was snoring heavily. Orion toddled over, sniffed his mother and curled up next to her. Jojo pouted to lose her playmate then started washing her fur.

"You all right, Commander?" One of the MACO's asked.

"I've got m'own attack cat," Tucker tried to joke. "I'm fine."

The marine snorted and pulled out a communicator to inform someone that they needed help bringing the last animal into Cargo Bay Four.

"Good girl," Trip exhaled slowly, petting his protector again. His recent champion scowled at his dirty hands; she offered a long suffering sigh and started licking the fur she had just cleaned. "How 'bout we go find you a big can of tuna?" he asked her. She squeezed her eyes shut and seemed to smile at him. Trip sighed and decided the relays could wait a few more minutes. He had to escort a lady to safety. He picked up the feline and headed for Sickbay.

* * *

_Sickbay_

_Day Eight_

"Isn't she beautiful?" Tucker commented as he entered the room and saw who was waiting for his arrival.

"She is a feline," T'Pol remarked, drinking in the sight of him, disheveled and dirty though he was. The appearance of his cast was not lost on her. Andie had seen to his health, she noted. He was fine. "The doctor will be pleased that she was located."

Tucker popped Jojo into her cage with an open can of tuna and smirked at T'Pol. "I was talking about the ship. She's a sight for sore eyes, innit she?" He took eight entire seconds to check out the form of the Vulcan before approaching her side.

"Indeed," she replied noncommittally, perusing data pads. "Where do we stand on repairs?"

Her abrupt swerve into shop talk told Tucker all that he needed to know about her mood. He was too tired to tease her out of it. "Right now I'm worried about the damage that might be undetectable. We'll know more once the engines get going and the sensors come online. I'm making the soft seals that were damaged a priority. Andie's prototype material is working pretty good. I might make use of some of that stuff in order to get us out of this system faster."

"I would prefer not to rely on an untested substance," T'Pol answered critically. "Take the secondary bulk heads if you have need. Is there anything further you require from the planet?"

"No, I've got everything I need up here." He didn't mean to sound so annoyed, but she hadn't even asked how he was doing. It grated on his nerves. "Tell the doctor I found her other cat." He picked up a data pad from the table in front of them and stalked out the door. "Lots to do! No time for fraternization!" he quipped bitterly as he headed out the door.

T'Pol wondered what had gotten under the thin skin of the engineer this time. She didn't have time to ponder it; she needed to have the captain moved without anyone knowing he was going to be moved. This was delicate precision she required. She stood over his bed and tried to squeeze her hands into fists to keep them from shaking, in spite of the fact that the heat had risen marginally on the ship and she was in no danger of freezing to death. They had to get everything back to normal and soon.

* * *

_Renaisterre: Starfleet Hollow_

_Day Eight: Evening_

Malcolm could tell she was up to something; he just couldn't quite figure out what it was. For what he hoped was the last time, the crew sat around an open campfire and enjoyed the cool night air. Andie kept quite busy, and what was more, she managed to find a way to keep him busy as well. She requested that her carabiners be recovered from the deep gorge where they had gone mountain climbing. Reed dodged that request by sending Behr and Macy. When he tried to get a few moments alone with her later, he discovered she had made a formal request to T'Pol to set up a medical tent near the Watchtower, and she'd been there all afternoon, treating those who had been wounded in combat, and any others who suffered from illnesses on this planet. Apparently she was still there. Ensigns Black and Mandara were both heard to comment on how odd it was that the doctor insisted on her own personal pod to serve as living quarters there, but she never seemed to sleep in it. And she refused to let anyone else in either. She just kept one eye on that door at all times.

And if that wasn't odd enough; Reed had loitered around in the shadows long enough to overhear an odd exchange between Ensign Haley Carter and Crewman Michael Rostov. Rostov had engaged in a little illegal gambling with Crewman Moreno by betting several credits that Ensign Mayweather would injure himself in less than twenty-four hours. It only took sixteen hours before the enthusiastic helmsman was confined to the ship for a clumsy mistake, forcing T'Pol to make a formal announcement over the broad communication band, denying anyone the right to learn swordplay when there was work to be done. Several of the crew who were familiar with Mayweather's clumsiness on land had tittered when it was announced that he would not be returning to the planet, but Carter had this to say.

"Do you think he's still alive?" She sounded worried.

Rostov laughed out loud. "Of course he's still alive! It was just a scratch! He actually punctured his own foot with that sword! She'd tell us if he was dead." He fell into a fit of giggles, unconcerned for his clumsy friend. "He dropped it tip down!"

"Would she?" Carter persisted. "Our ship is damaged and our position here is tenuous. Perhaps she's concerned about the natives pressing an advantage before we are able to defend ourselves."

"You worry too much," Michael told her, kissing her forehead gently.

"Do I?" Haley asked icily. "We haven't seen Captain Archer in a while now! Now Mayweather's missing!"

"He's not missing. He's in Sickbay. They're both in Sickbay." Rostov tried to reassure her.

"What if they're not? What if this is all just a ruse to keep us calm until we get out of here?"

"Now you're talking conspiracy," Rostov frowned. "You should definitely keep your voice down."

"I think others are aware," Carter insisted.

Rostov got very quiet. "You're speaking out against the X.O.

"Andie would have to assist her," Carter pointed out. "Did you see them whispering together?"

Michael considered his words, but spoke firmly. "If you repeat any of this to the wrong people, then that could lead to insurrection against the senior officers and you'd be in trouble."

"You're the one talking about insurrection Crewman; I'm just talking."

It was the way she pulled rank on him that made him end the conversation entirely. "I'd love to sit and talk all day, but I've got work to do." He got up and left her there, staring pensively at the fire.

Malcolm had remained in the shadows. The doctor hadn't given any details about Archer's illness; she just kept repeating that he was stable for now and she would have to wait for her medical machines. But she was definitely up to something, and he vowed that he would get to the bottom of it.

* * *

_Renaisterre: The Watchtower_

_Day Nine_

Andie appeared at the flap of the Medical Tent when summoned, after snapping her fingers and whistling for her guards, as though they were puppies. With identical expressions of annoyance, Chang and Roland fell into step behind her. Once outside, Roland moved to stand near to King Galen, who was just dismounting. The captain exchanged a look with Lady Theia before standing beside her, while Chang remained near the doctor.

She finished wiping her hands on a towel and moved to stand next to Commander T'Pol, Lieutenant Reed and Ensign Sato, who waited patiently in the weak sunlight outside. Unlike the others, she still wore a long woolen gown in the tradition of the natives. Sergeant Chang took a position close by and looked stern.

"You promised to return my key, Woman." Galen was nothing if not abrupt.

She pulled the leather thong from around her neck and tossed it across the space between them. The king caught the object and his shoulders briefly slumped in relief at holding the power in his hands again. Part of him had been certain she would hold it forever.

"Our contract would seem to be fulfilled," Galen noted with a tone of superiority.

"You have what you requested," T'Pol noted. "We are free to leave?"

"Whenever you like," Galen agreed with relief.

The men behind him started to turn their mounts

"You do know that key is a pile of crap, right?"

The monarch's frown returned. "What do you mean?" He looked dubiously at the item in his hand, wondering if it was possible to fashion something from the droppings of a _ktirya_.

"This key doesn't open anything because there isn't a door to fit its contours," Andie went on. "Sadiré looked for a door her whole life and found nothing. Herak was well motivated to find the door in the last year, but he couldn't locate one either. I don't think there is a door, at least not in any form that you would recognize as a door."

T'Pol took her assigned role. "A prophecy stated that a great power was hidden in this Watchtower and accessible only by key. It would be logical to create a key to act as a decoy in case disreputable persons showed up to claim the power by foul means," T'Pol explained.

"There is no power at all." Galen looked disillusioned. The possibility that the world might be made anew was often all that was keeping his kingdom from chaos and despair.

"Oh, I'm pretty certain there's a power all right," Andie assured him. "Hidden behind a harmonic resonance field if I'm correct."

"What is that?" Roland inquired. He had not been privy to this information although they had spent several hours in close quarters. It was not as though he had been mistreated; she made sure he was fed and warm. She just didn't share her thoughts with him.

"A harmonic resonance field is a barrier created from strong magnetic properties that kept the door from opening until the correct sequence of tones are played," T'Pol explained.

"If you play the right sounds, a door opens," Andie explained. "That's why the ground shakes every time I hit a high note."

The king had no interest in continuing his association with this crazy woman, but he was afraid he had little choice. "You know where this door is?" Galen inquired.

"We have had time to perform a detailed survey of the area," Reed announced. "We have a reasonable estimate as to the door's location." T'Pol had informed him of this plan last evening.

"You know the tone to open it?" Galen inquired again.

"Nope," Andie disagreed. "But I'll bet she does." She pointed at Theia.

The mousy woman looked surprised. "I don't know of any door."

"Did your father ever instruct you with music?"

"No, he never taught me anything like...You mean the lullaby he used to sing to me?"

All of a sudden Lady Theia was the most interesting person in the circle. Turns out her father sang a lullaby to her every night of her life until he died, as all Stewards sang to their offspring over the many years since the Tower was first sealed. He never sang to Sadiré at all. The surrounding group decided that her song was the sound that would open the Tower. And since Theia was returned to King Galen's care the morning after Andie's assault upon the Tower, Andie smirked that the King would not be able to hold a grudge against her, since technically she held up her end of the bargain they had made. And T'Pol happily offered to show the residents where she thought the door might be.

"Oh, Great King and Light of the World," Lady Andrea spoke into the morning sunlight in a much different tone than she had previously used. "Wouldst thou extend thy generosity to us, the lowly travelers, that we might witness at your hallowed side the magnificence of your power?" She dropped a deep curtsy that had her nose pressed against the grassy hillside.

"Are you asking to join our expedition to open the door?" Galen asked.

"To extend such an honor to us, your humble servants, who wish only to serve Your Majesty for their brief time in your presence, would do us an honor which we could never repay," Andie went on. She almost sounded sincere.

"I see your manners have finally found you," Galen noted sarcastically.

"Your Majesty, they have knowledge of which we could make good use," Roland whispered in his master's ear.

'Harmonic resonance' was a phrase that Galen had never heard of, but this woman and her companions spoke of it with such casual disregard, they must know a great many things about it. They could be of service. And the odd woman had suddenly decided to pay him appropriate homage and defer to his power, so it may not be such a terrible event to bring them along.

"You and your men may serve us in our quest for the door to the Watchtower, Lady Andrea," Galen concluded.

Finally Andie arose from her prostrate position. "Your Majesty is munificent in his bounty and wise beyond my ken. We would accept thy abundant generosity with gratitude and with joy to serve thy magnificence once more."

"Don't oversell it," Reed whispered in her direction. She had a habit of fitting in; it didn't surprise him that she would have figured out how to adapt to court life on this world, in order to get what she wanted. If only he knew what she wanted, he thought. Whatever secrets she was keeping now; her knowledge of the Watchtower wasn't it.

Galen nudged his _esther_ closer to the entrance to the Watchtower. "Your lady does not touch a single item without my permission," he told Reed in a tone that meant business.

Malcolm nodded his assent. The human team fell in behind the royal contingent while Reed fell into step beside the doctor. "What the hell was that?" he inquired.

"I've been to Court before," she replied easily, shrugging her shoulders. "I just don't always choose to behave as though the sun shines right out of somebody's butt just because they hold a fancy title."

Reed rolled his eyes. There were many objections he wanted to make about that misconception, but he decided that now was not the time. "How long have you known about this harmonic resonance field?"

"It was just a guess. I know a guy who was doing some research in that direction a while back. The Watchtower shakes more violently in some areas than others. T'Pol is the one who confirmed the data."

"But you didn't want to share it with the tactical officer?" It wasn't just one more thing that she hadn't confided in him. The lack of trust stung.

"We've been a little busy, Reed!"

That much was true, but her put-upon tone indicated that he was coming on too strong again. He tried to soften his tone when he continued. "You know so much about this Tower. What do you suppose we're going to find inside?" He'd returned her carabiners to her already and other people had been returning her things to her one by one. Now her survival kit hung across her back as full as it had ever been. She wouldn't keep that close unless she thought she might have need for it. He just felt unprepared for whatever it was that she had been scheming for.

A cloud troubled Andie's countenance. "That is something that I do not know," she admitted.

They walked the distance to the Watchtower in silence.


	25. Chapter 25

Renaisterre

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 25

* * *

_Renaisterre_

_Day Nine:_

There was quite a crowd that squeezed into the narrow tunnels under the Watchtower, trundling through the cold stone corridors that led to the large room that had recently housed explosive powder. Malcolm led them to the small conveyance he'd discovered by accident in the corner. Tucker was already there, attaching a portable power cell to the controls to bring the elevator online and they descended in the shaking contraption to what seemed to be the bottom of the earth.

It was an unremarkable room, and perhaps that had been the point of its austerity. There were no designs on the walls or expensive tiles decorating the floor. It was simply a smooth and barren space. The far wall looked to be part of the original mountain behind the Tower. There were no markings or protuberances denoting hinges or handles; there was nothing to indicate a door.

Theia was brought forward. After spending so much time trying to remain unnoticed, she shook with fear at so many eyes on her person. Andie reached out and took her hand.

"What if I don't remember the whole song?" she whispered to the doctor.

"You will," Andie promised her. "We never forget the words our father's left us." She signaled Hoshi to step forward.

The linguist removed from her pinafore a roll of embroidered cloth; it was the tapestry Andie had taken from the underground room because it looked different than the others for reasons she couldn't understand. Hoshi had taken a good long look at the artifact and with the help of the Communications team had picked out the extra stitches that had been worked into the design, and established them to be in place of music notes, had a music graph been worked into the design. Hoshi also presented a small device and pressed a button. The computer on board _Enterprise_ had approximated the notes and a tinny sound rang out in the crowded room.

Theia drew in a deep breath, recognizing the piece. She hummed softly, closing her eyes to bring to mind a father with kind eyes who soothed her brow when she was frightened of the darkness, and whose voice would lure her into a feeling of security until she drifted off.

Andie watched her with a face closed off from outside interpretation. It wasn't hard to guess that Theia was remembering the father who loved her dearly. Judging by Trip's faraway gaze and T'Pol's pensive expression, they had no such problems indulging in the same reveries. Only Reed watched Theia in silence; his brows knit in a frown as he considered his own paternal forebear.

Opening her mouth, Theia began hesitantly; the words stumbling out of her mouth as though uncertain of their place in this crowded room. The memory of her father flooded over her and her voice gained in strength. As had happened so many times before, the walls around them shook, dropping dusty debris into their eyes and frightening many of the participants. Theia sang some more, about the white tower on the edge of the blue sea, about the light shining like a beacon in the dark from its pinnacle and about the world remaking itself and rising out of the ash of its former design.

And before their eyes, the wall began to quake and grind. Dust filled the air as the heavy stone partition simply faded away. Beyond the filmy barrier was a room that appeared distorted, as though they were viewing it through a sheet of water. Andie was the first to step forward. Reed put a hand on her arm and pressed ahead of her. Hesitantly he pushed his hand against the translucent barrier and moved through. It was like pushing through a thicket of trees, kind of scratchy and dusty, but easy to maneuver. Andie was right behind him, and then came Galen.

Inside there was plenty of room under the cavernous ceiling, and the air was filled with the sound of rushing water. Periodically along the walls were outlets where water was being sucked in or pumped out through other tubes. The room was cool and the air was fresh. It extended deep into the mountain behind the Tower. Andie was the first one to look up, training her flashlight on the frescoes and murals that adorned the walls, presumably all the way to the peak, but the light faded before it reached such heights. It stood to reason that this room was as tall as the mountain.

As soon as Theia passed through the entry, dams opened up and water flooded through their designated pipelines, bringing an onset of power to the room, washing away the darkness with a flood of illumination and baring to the eye a series of machines and consoles and buttons and dark display screens, all of which were lighting up with the power of technology.

"Oh my God!" Trip murmured with his jaw around his feet. He was not the only one impressed.

They all stood agape. The 'Fleeters had a better idea what they were looking at but the wonder was greater, not less. The Renaisterrans were agog and slightly frightened. Roland, who had spent the afternoon and evening in the company of the technologically advanced doctor, was drawing near to Lady Theia, offering her an arm to steady her shaking shoulders.

A light flickered on a pedestal and took shape in the form of a weary woman, drawing all their attention to her. Her gown was old-fashioned but her words were clear, almost as clear as the objects that could be seen behind and through her. She was a hologram.

"_Descendants of the Watchtower, if you are hearing my voice then my world has come to an end. We were an advanced people who sought to know the mysteries of the world and beyond. We mastered the breaking of the atom and we accomplished rudimentary space travel. Our first visit was to the nearby moon. That visit did not finish well. We discovered a species on that planetary body that we brought back for study and experimentation. The animal was loosed in our space vessel and overtook the crew. Our ship was thrown off course by the chaos and damaged by an asteroid. To prevent any other tragedies from occurring, our leaders chose to destroy the natural satellite and put an end to the unknown species. The lunar body was damaged and fragments fell to our earth and led to the destruction of all that we know."_

"She's talking about the space frogs," Malcolm whispered. "It sounds like they tried to annihilate them and wound up destroying their own world."

"An impact disaster from that attempt threw up a cloud of dust that choked out all life on this planet," T'Pol guessed, moving around the room and taking readings from the computer controls with her hand scanner as they lit up the room to dispel the darkness.

The holographic woman went on, telling of the efforts of their most intelligent minds to find a way to reverse the process. When they knew it was hopeless, many went home to their families to await the end. A few traveled to the farthest reaches of their world. Ancient Towers had once been built as communication beacons, but had fallen into disrepair. The desperate scientists made some adjustments to the Towers and hid away the seeds of life in a machine that would be opened one day when the world was ready to be made new. The machine was kept in operation by hydro-electric power, run by underground aqueducts.

Malcolm and Andie exchanged glances at that news.

"_I can only hope that at least one of these Towers survives. You only have a short period of time to shelter those who survive with you before the Renais Project begins to remake the world, to bring back that which we lost and to start life again in the hopes that as a people we have learned to better protect the lives of those in our care."_

"I don't understand," Galen breathed, confused by the strange things around them.

"Do you want the long version or the short version?" Andie asked him, flicking her torch this way and that and trying to take in the details around her. What they were looking at was the most extraordinary device ever created, meant to bring life to a lifeless world. As the name Renaisterre implicates, it is earth reborn. _How do you explain that to someone who hasn't even mastered an electrical light fixture?_

"The simplest version," Galen answered, feeling very small.

"Your world is dying, yes?" Andie queried. He nodded dumbly. "It's about to be given new life."

"What does that mean?" he asked. His hangdog expression made him look especially eerie in this weird world of water and rock. The shadows filled all the crevices in his face and made him appear older.

"You've planted a garden before, yes?" He nodded again. "You prepare the earth. You plant a seed. You offer it light and water and a plant grows." Andie waved an arm around the room. "Your ancestors were extraordinary! This room is neither a tower nor a mountain. It is a giant gardener that will plant seeds of life all across Renaisterre, and your planet will rise out of the ground and flourish again." She breathed respectfully. "They were _brilliant_."

"I don't understand," Galen fretted again, looking once more like a frail old man.

T'Pol tried to explain further. "According to this display, an explosion will be detonated in the atmosphere to burn off any residual radiation from the initial asteroid impact. The remaining material will drift down to earth and be absorbed into the ground, bonding with the nutrients in the soil and reinvigorating the earth. A second explosion will emit spores and seeds and other genetic material, which will be carried by the winds to the far corners of the planet, to land in the new earth and take hold in the reinvigorated soil. Plants will grow. The explosions will disturb the molecules in the air, creating a heavy layer of atmosphere that will descend in the form of water, thus reproducing the precipitation that will allow those new plants to thrive." T'Pol's voice was even softer than usual. "This machine will jump start the eco-system."

"I'd suggest y'all stay inside for most of that," Trip grunted. He, too, was checking out readings with his hand scanner. "It's gonna be stormy for a while. You should all be safe inside this room."

"We cannot all fit into this room for an extended period of time!" Roland burst out. He had been struck dumb by the sights before him. In following Lady Andrea, he had been exposed to lights that burned without flame and food that appeared practically from nowhere and small boxes that offered knowledge to those that knew how to use them. Yet this was the most exceptional thing he had seen in his whole life.

"I think this is a door," Hoshi called out, pointing to a mosaic of tile.

"Do I need to sing?" Theia inquired nervously. She stood at Roland's side with wide open eyes and even Dagmar, usually so pragmatic, had nothing to say in the face of all this.

"No, I think this just uses a button," Ensign Sato smiled warmly. She pressed the switch and the door rolled back to expose a long corridor with others branching off to the sides. "It looks like living quarters back here," she called out. "Lots of them," she added, wandering off to inspect.

"This data could totally revitalize our current methods of terra forming," Trip marveled. "Do you mind if we take some notes?" he turned back to Galen who was still struck dumb.

"What happens to _us_ when those explosions are occurring in the atmosphere?" Galen questioned tightly.

"This place is a fortress. If you stay inside until it's done, you should be all right." Tucker admired the readouts on the power converters.

"You expect us to hide away in the dirt while the world is destroyed around my ears?" Galen shouted. He was growing more agitated; his face was turning purple.

Everyone looked around in surprise.

Andie stepped forward and put her hand on his arm. "Your world is already dead, Good Father. Your crops are drying up and your livestock are sickly. Your women have cysts inside their bodies that would not allow children to be born. In a matter of time the whole planet would just fade away." She looked deep into his eyes. "You have a rare opportunity to be a great leader in an extraordinary circumstance. Take the chance that is offered to you. It will not come again."

"Would you prefer to be the last king of Renaisterre, or the first king of a new dynasty?" For the first time Reed spoke. He'd been perusing the room with its incredible information. He felt as blown away as Galen looked. This dry, red, dusty planet with its inhospitable atmosphere and unfriendly inhabitants could be transformed into something vital and positive. New life could be breathed into its cold heart and it could live again. It may seem strange, too strange to state out loud, but he had made just such a transformation once before in his life. The choice hadn't been easy, but it had been worth the struggle. And there was something in Andie's voice when she spoke of rare opportunities and taking chances. She had made such a choice once too; chosen to leave a pirate bar and transform into a reputable doctor. "I would choose to move forward, if I were you, Your Highness," he went on in the sudden silence, broken only by the sound of rushing water. "It would be better than to be cursed for your inability to change."

"How much time do I have to decide?" Galen wondered.

T'Pol looked at her data pad. "The first detonation will occur in just under three days."

"That's not enough time to move everyone from the Castle," he considered the possibility. "Especially when the bridge was damaged," he noted desperately.

T'Pol and Trip looked at each other. "We might be able to help you with that," Tucker offered. A tired laugh slipped out of his mouth. "And I thought I was done with the hard part!"

"I would like to leave the atmosphere before the detonation," T'Pol informed him.

"Well, as long as there's no pressure!" he joked. Truth was he was less tired now than he had been yesterday morning. They were saving people from a dire fate and there was nothing better for the soul than saving others. "I hope y'all can pack light!" He informed the King.

Dagmar moved forward. "Most o' the peasants are already packed. They been moved once already. We'll get them moved in. The livestock'll come next. That'll give you time to pack up yer fancy wimmin and castle belongings," she informed the king. "But you're gonna hafta hurry! I'll need some place to set up my kitchen." The cook nudged the king into motion. "Hurry up, Highness! No time for dillydally!" The coarse woman wouldn't take no for an answer, just brushed the king before her.

"He may have lost an advisor in this mess, but I think he just gained a den mother," Reed snorted.

"That elevator won't hold a million journeys," Tucker sighed. "I think we ought to knock out the car and put in a ladder or a set of stairs." He moved off to check on their way out.

"Lady Theia, I can show you how to make sense of the computer readings," Hoshi called out, reappearing from another tunnel. She drew the woman near and began to talk about the system that was slowly blinking into life. Roland hovered over her shoulder and Ensign Sato started including him in the tutorial.

"What are you thinking?" Reed asked. The doctor looked wistful.

"That I'm almost sorry to go," Andie replied. "How marvelous would it be to watch a new world start from scratch?"

"You could probably stay. They'd probably treat you like a queen," he told her dryly.

"I'm not a title; I'm a doctor," she retorted. "And I like to help people and I can do that best in a state of the art facility. That's even better than watching history unfold."

She wasn't even tempted; that was surprising. "Most people dream of the chance of becoming royalty," he informed her.

"Most people aren't happy with who they are," she whispered conspiratorially. "They think if they can change themselves they'll be all right."

"You don't want to change yourself?"

"I've worked too hard to reach this much perfection, Reed. To change it now would just be a step backward."

There was that sassy smirk again.

"What about you, Reed?"

"I was born perfect," he informed her, choking back a smile. "I didn't have to work hard to achieve anything."

"Lazy bastard," she snorted, moving ahead of him to inspect another console. He found he was smiling when she stepped away.

_

* * *

__Starship Enterprise_

_Day Twelve_

"I can see that the experiment was a success, but I do not intend to go to warp with an untested material holding the ship together!" T'Pol's voice was growing strident. They were arguing about the transparent section of hull near the main plasma exhausts. Tucker was being especially stubborn today; he was always particularly ornery when he was tired. It was a wonder he hadn't passed out already.

"You still want us out of this system by tomorrow afternoon? Because we'll have to work around the clock to get enough bulk heads down to fix the hole that ain't broke!" By 'we' Tucker meant the engineering team, which had already been run ragged repairing the soft seals around the airlocks and the phase canon assemblies, in addition to formulating a crude seal over the Bridge to temporarily replace the skylight, not to mention the work the rest of the crew had been doing to repair the bridge and transport the inhabitants across the gorge. Most of his people were perfectly happy to work their butts off if it meant they didn't have to go back down to the cold, dusty planet, but that didn't mean that he wanted them to fall down on the job.

"I do, Commander," T'Pol responded. "Take extra personnel from any department you see fit in order to get this done." She started to walk away.

"I'd like to hear it from the captain," Trip repeated. He hadn't seen the captain since he woke up the morning after the _ktiryas_ had rid their ship of space frogs, and he was beginning to worry.

"The captain has suffered a terrible injury," T'Pol responded. "The doctor is not allowing visitors at this time."

"He might _like_ some visitors, or at least a status report," Trip pointed out.

"The doctor has sedated the captain to mitigate his pain until her medical equipment is back online and a thorough exam may be completed."

"I didn't realize his injuries were so severe," Trip answered in a subdued voice.

"Until Sickbay is fully operational, it would be difficult to ascertain how serious his injuries are. Our first priority is getting the ship repaired enough to fly away from the impending Renais Project. Everything else is secondary. Even the captain can wait another day."

"I'd like to see the captain, even if he's not awake," Trip pressed.

"I'll pass your request on to the doctor," T'Pol replied tiredly. She turned on her heel and moved down the corridor.

Trip watched her go with a heavy heart. She hadn't been herself recently. It could be the disruption to her routine, he noted. Many of the crew had been ousted from their quarters until Engineering could check them out thoroughly for leaks or breaks in power lines. T'Pol and Andie had been among the first to suggest that he forego repairs to their quarters; they would both be bunking down in Sickbay for the time being and it wasn't a priority. In spite of its prominent position in the long corridor leading from Sickbay, he was looking forward to hitting his own bunk pretty soon. He vowed they would be returned to normal as quickly as he could manage as he took a deep breath and mentally challenged himself to get back to work.

* * *

_Renaisterre_

_Day Thirteen_

Malcolm stood on the cold mountainside and refrained from checking his chronometer again. Finally he spotted his prey; she was riding _esthers_ at breakneck speed across the Great Dry Plain with Captain Roland. She wore a long dress to comply with their customs, but she rode astride like a man. Her hair had come loose and streamed over her shoulders and he didn't have to be close to know that her cheeks and nose were dark pink with the chill in the air. She was also laughing, something he hadn't seen her do very often.

Just before they reached the final hill, the riders slowed and let their mounts catch their breath. Andie caught sight of the pair that waited and leaned over to thank her escort as she slid off the slender animal and moved to stand next to Malcolm. "Is it time to go?" she inquired brightly. "How was the transfer?"

Malcolm and Theia had been overseeing the removal of the _ktiryas_ from the ship. The animals had a natural affinity for the sweet female and had stalked through the corridors at her side to the transporter pad without injuring any of the crew. It had been nerve-wracking for Reed and he was glad it was finally over. "Everything went according to plan," he admitted tiredly.

"My lady?" Theia stepped forward. "I have something for you. It is only a small token."

"You didn't have to get me anything," Andie refuted gently.

"One moment, my lady," Roland stopped her. "Lady Theia would never forgive you if you refused her gift. It was commissioned from the blacksmith by her father many years previously."

The object was a metal rendering of a _ktirya_, crouched and ready for battle. It brightened Andie's face once again. "Offer my thanks to your betrothed. It is lovely."

"Thank you, Lady Andrea," Roland spoke honestly. "I would have you know that in honor of our union, the King has answered Theia's boon, and sentenced Sadiré to life in prison." He looked at his feet and flushed as his intended took his arm. "Theia was loathe to lose the only family she had left, even if it is only that woman."

Andie sighed. "This world is new, Roland. What you do leaves footprints. Don't sully the future. Treat everyone well."

"As you wish, my lady," he answered. He leaned over and kissed the back of her hand. The women exchanged hugs and kisses, and to Malcolm's embarrassment, Theia leaned over and kissed his cheek as well.

Malcolm just remained quiet, watching the captain of the guard lift Theia to the saddle of his mount in order to lead her back to the Watchtower. "What was that about a betrothal?"

Andie grimaced. "Galen named Roland the new Steward of the Tower. He offered him Theia's hand in marriage."

"You sound upset about that."

"He handed her over like she was property! I have a problem with that! Unfortunately Theia thinks it's fabulous. It really took the steam out of my feminist outrage." She kicked a rock under her foot with more vigor than it deserved. "They can't even be certain there will be a need to keep an eye on the Tower when all is said and done!" She looked like she might be working up a full head of steam, so he said something to head her off in another direction.

"You know I've been looking over the prophecy given to you by Berthelde," Malcolm went on. "She was more accurate than I would have presumed."

Andie looked dubious. "You actually paid attention to her prophecy?"

"She said that the _woman of shadows_, whom we all agree is you, _will bring light to the darkness_. With your help the Renais Project was discovered and will remake the world. Commander T'Pol says it'll be like a giant globe of light spewing from the top of the Tower. I guess we know where everyone got their ideas for all the tapestries, eh?"

Andie didn't seem happy to be included in prophecy. "How do you know Theia isn't the woman of shadows? She lived in secrecy for a long time."

"She said the woman of shadows _will bear them all children_. You spent the last two days removing cysts from the ovaries of the women who live here. They will most likely bear children in the upcoming days, and they owe that to you."

"Or someone else will midwife them and bring children forth, and _that's_ what it means," Andie argued.

"_Beasts will feast on the flesh of the cold and unnamed_," Malcolm went on, enjoying prodding her. "I think that refers to the space frogs and the _ktiryas_ who ate them."

"The _ktiryas_ were bred to defend the Watchtower. They could eat any number of things and someone would find a way to call it cold or refuse to acknowledge a name or whatever." She waved her hand dismissively.

"_They will hold together until the sea_...That could reference a musical note, the high cee, and reference the note required to bring down the barrier on the harmonic resonance field."

"You forgot about 'him drowning in her'," Andie snorted.

"So you do remember the prophecy!" Reed teased. "It wasn't until the parts about 'divided personality' that remains unfulfilled. Of course, that was when Berthelde grabbed your hand and spoke directly to you and presumably about you, rather than the company at large."

"Now you're just talking crazy," Andie scoffed.

"I thought you believed in prognostication?"

"Berthelde spouted vagaries that could be applied to a myriad of situations," Andie explained. "It probably had nothing to do with me."

"But you had your fortune read once before and you seem to believe that?"

"My other prophet had impeccable credentials! Berthelde came from a family line with severe mental illness, and lived her life under not one, but two women who wielded herbs with deadly intent! She was a disturbed woman working under fear of death or punishment from her jailors!"

"You think she's crazy?"

"Crazy isn't a word I'd use officially. But I think there's plenty of doubt."

"You find it more likely that an advanced race knew that you would be a guest on _Enterprise_ at the exact moment we fell out of the sky, came to the aid of an attacking beast, and saved a king from the bastard daughter of the steward out to steal the ancient secrets for herself than a series of random coincidences?"

"You think that the random coincidence of all those things is more likely than a predetermination by a higher power?"

"Yes! You are a doctor; you should be grounded in science! Your adherence to fate or destiny is perplexing! " He almost tore his hair out. "How does one get impeccable precognition credentials?" Clearly the lieutenant thought the idea was ludicrous.

"By seeing both time and space, I suppose," she answered airily.

"I thought you didn't believe in time travel. You were very specific about Archer's encounters with Daniels."

"I never said I didn't believe!"

"Your disdain was clear."

"I don't believe that one crewman, whose death was witnessed by other crewmen, came back to life and started whispering the secrets of the future in the captain's ear! Just because I don't believe in _zombies_ doesn't mean I don't believe in _time travel_!"

"You said the Vulcan Science Directorate claimed time travel was impossible."

"They _did_ claim time travel was impossible!" She was shrieking now and Reed was pleased with himself.

"Do you think it is?"

"I think there's a whole lot of weird, wacky stuff in the worlds," Andie told him.

"Like a fortune teller with impeccable credentials?" Malcolm pressed with interest. "Tell me, Doctor, what was fated in your cards?"

"They didn't use cards," she muttered. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. When it seemed he wasn't going to budge until she coughed up the answer, she exhaled noisily. "The same gibberish that other fortune tellers speak; I'm going to live my life and make a love match! You know, the usual hokum and phooey!"

"A love match?" Malcolm noted with interest. "Did you get a name to make it easier to find this cosmic lover?"

"All I know is, the mate can fly."

Malcolm chuckled. "That should make him easy to find!" He flicked open his communicator and called for the transport to begin.

"You'd think so, but she's proving to be really elusive!" Andie added just before the shimmer of transporter lights took them up to the stars. She was rewarded for her timing by the sharp jerk of his head that happened on the planet and on the starship. She bit her lip to stop grinning.

They reappeared in the transporter alcove, where the controls were manned by a very tired Commander Tucker.

"_She_?" Malcolm uttered in surprise.

"I told you: Hokum and phooey," Andie said very clearly. She ruined the smug moment by giggling.

"I thought your source was reliable," Malcolm grumbled, pleased that she was teasing him. She was definitely relaxing in his company now.

Tucker almost got the chance to ask what was going on, but a call came in over the intercom.

"_Commander T'Pol to Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed!"_

Tucker stepped to the wall speaker. "Tucker here," he responded. "I've got Reed and Andie on board."

"_Report to the Bridge, Commander, Lieutenant. We're preparing to leave orbit."_

"On our way," he acknowledged, glancing at Malcolm. Reed nodded and stepped off the pad, automatically matching pace with the engineer.

* * *

_Starship Enterprise: _

_Command Center: aka Temporary Bridge_

T'Pol stood at the science console as the two men arrived to take their stations. "Set a course outside the system, Mr. Mayweather," she commanded.

"Aye, sir," Travis replied. He began pressing buttons into the temporary navigation station. He was relieved when the ship responded.

"What is the countdown?" she inquired at large.

"Ten minutes, Commander," Ensign Sato responded.

They waited on the outskirts of the system with bated breath. The first explosion knocked visual sensors offline. Computer controls brought them back in short order. The ugly red planet was still in place, although record changes were occurring in the atmosphere.

"Renaisterre is still in existence," T'Pol sighed.

"I'm still reading life forms!" Sato added with relief in her voice as well.

"Make a note in the log to recommend a revisit to the planet after some time has passed. I would like to see how they fare in the long run. Mr. Mayweather, plot a course. We'll need to resupply as soon as we can, so keep an eye out for any options out there." T'Pol paced behind the captain's chair.

"Aye, sir!" he responded. To pick a direction from all possible directions was something he enjoyed to a ridiculous degree. He could take them where they had never gone before. He might take them somewhere amazing. The stars were an open book. Travis plotted a course and the ship moved off.

"Commander Tucker, I would like you to keep an eye on engineering for two hours. If there are no further problems with our seals or propulsion, you are to be relieved. You will not report for duty until tomorrow morning." Her tone softened. "Get some sleep, Commander. That's an order."

"Yes, ma'am!" Trip agreed. He was going to have a very long week. A nap sounded like an excellent way to start the problem.

"I will be in Sickbay," T'Pol noted. "Mr. Reed, you have command of the bridge."

"Aye, Commander!" Malcolm responded. He watched the Vulcan go with a heavy heart. Her words reminded him that the captain was lying in Sickbay because he had been unable to keep him safe. He could only hope that the captain would not hold his incompetence against him.

* * *

_Sickbay_

_22:30 hours_

T'Pol's spot check after leaving the planet had been hours ago, but she reentered the medical ward at this late hour hoping to catch the doctor alone. Corporal Finn was still recovering from his radiation induced illness; the entire crew was scheduled to receive inoculations starting tomorrow. Corporal Parsons was resting with her knee in a brace. She would need some minor therapy to get her knee back into proper health. A few others had made themselves as comfortable as possible on portable cots. There was one body that T'Pol could not find. She made her way to the CMO's office.

Surprise drove Andie to her feet when the door opened. "I didn't expect to see you again so soon!" she greeted the woman. "I told you I wouldn't have a more detailed answer until tomorrow."

"What is his condition?" T'Pol asked politely.

"FUBAR," Andie answered glumly. "Tucker came in to see him before he headed off to his bed. I moved him to the isolation ward. I didn't think he should have to recuperate in the same room as the others."

"I am certain the captain would appreciate your discretion."

"Like I said, I can get you a more detailed answer tomorrow. He's out of imminent danger but I'm not sure he'll walk again any time soon."

"I wanted to discuss something else with you, Doctor."

"Is this about the space frog residue? Because I think we've got that licked now. Very few cases of dermal irritation came in today and…"

"It is not about the space frogs."

"Is this about Ensign Carter's rash? Because that should be solved with an analgesic cream, but she seems determined to tough it out without me. I had to get confirmation from…"

"Doctor, I..."

"Is this about...?"

"DOCTOR!"

The unexpected outburst sucked the wind out of Andie's sails and she sank into the chair behind the desk. "Maybe I should shut up and let you talk."

In spite of her need to speak with the physician, T'Pol hesitated. Her hands were still trembling. "You lived among Vulcans for a period of time. Have you ever heard of something called _Pon Farr_?"

"It's the Vulcan mating drive, characterized by a blood fever. You either mate or you die." Andie looked closer at T'Pol. "Why do you ask?" she queried as the blood left her face.

T'Pol inhaled slowly and let the air out just as unhurriedly. "I thought you should know."

Andie started flicking through data on her computer. "I seem to recall an entry that says you're married. I'll have the Bridge change course to Vulcan."

"No," T'Pol refused. "We will not be going to Vulcan."

"Then I'll arrange to have your husband brought here," Andie suggested.

"That would be awkward," the Vulcan stated simply. "We are dissolving our union."

Andie stopped fussing with her keyboard. "I'm sorry to hear that. Divorces are still rather uncommon, aren't they?"

"They are," the Vulcan agreed.

The physician smoothed out her blue lab coat. "I'm sure the Vulcan Medical Board has encountered this sort of thing before. They must have a representative to send?"

"I am not going to involve Vulcan in this matter."

Startled, Andie could only gape. "Um, _what?"_

The words came out slowly. "If anyone on Vulcan finds out about the captain's injury, they will report the matter directly to Earth. The Command Council will remove Archer from his post as captain, declaring him unfit. He will lose this ship. It is his father's ship and it means more to him than anything."

"That may not be so bad," Andie pointed out. "He would get the medical and psychological treatment that he would need for his recovery." She looked around. "The Sickbay on _Enterprise_ is state of the art, but I'm not equipped for long-term or specialized needs.

The chin lifted stubbornly. "If there is no other option, then we will confer with the Command Council. But until you can assure me that you have exhausted every option to cure him, we will keep both of these matters between us. By us, I mean you and me, and no one else."

"You want to keep this from the rest of the crew? And the senior staff?"

"Until the matter is determined to be outside of your control, I want you to control the matter."

Andie tilted her head to one side and looked very hard at T'Pol. "You can't let your own health suffer in exchange for Archer's career."

The Vulcan managed to look both stubborn and fragile. "I owe him a debt." That was all she needed to explain, she felt. Clearing her throat she went on, "Two years ago I was infected with a virus that triggered _Pon farr_-like symptoms. Phlox treated me with pharmaceuticals and I believe that between you and I we can create something that will alleviate the symptoms, if not eradicate them altogether."

"You think you and I, in our spare time, are going to create an antidote to something that has vexed the best Vulcan scientific minds for thousands of years?" Andie shook her head. "This is crazy."

"I want to give Captain Archer the benefit of time. If his condition is permanent, or my condition worsens, we will discuss other options."

"This is a bad idea," Andie repeated.

"Can I count on you?" T'Pol leaned forward in her chair and let her eyes do her pleading for her.

Andie nodded. There was a time not so long ago when it would have been unheard of for a Vulcan to defend a humans' right to choose. The sheer unexpectedness of the request seemed good for a couple of day's worth of silence. "For now," she agreed. "But I get to decide when it's time to start discussing other options."

"Agreed," the Vulcan nodded. She rose to leave. "Doctor? Work fast."

"The senior staff is going to be a problem," Andie warned her before she reached the door. "Reed will be especially difficult."

"I will assist you with the lieutenant," T'Pol promised. She exited and left the doctor to her thoughts.

The week had started with an opportunity to explore a new culture, and it wound up with a promise to deceive and mislead. It was one hell of a week!

THE END.

* * *

A/N: Will T'Pol get friendly with her ex-husband? Will Reed discover Andie's lies? Will Tucker get his beloved ship put back together again? How bad is Archer's injury? All these answers and more, coming up!

If you liked Renaisterre, stay tuned for the upcoming Ulnythian Games.


End file.
